The Tomorrow Knight: Origins
by CDrake
Summary: On the cusp of Bruce and Diana's wedding, a visit from the future throws their plans into chaos. When their legacy reveals he is more than willing to kill to save them, they must work to temper his rage and discover the truth behind his arrival; lest his knowledge of the future lead to catastrophe in the present. But the Knight is young, and stubborn enough for the both of them.
1. Surprise!

"Is it ready?"

A pair of hard green eyes turned to the source of the question. "It is. Are you?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have asked for your help."

The tall, green-eyed man frowned and tilted his head in acknowledgement before returning his attention to a holographic console in front of him. All across its projection were vast, complex equations that integrated time, space, and—most importantly—relativity. His focus was only drawn away for a moment when he heard the telltale clicks of armor plates being affixed to a larger framework. His momentary glance alit on an almost equally tall figure whose back was turned to him, clad neck-down in a gray-black suit that clung to him like a second skin. With each new piece of overlapping armor, the suit disappeared more and more, concealed under a high-density ceramic carapace.

Green eyes returned to their task, laying in one final set of calculations, then pausing over the controls as they looked back to confirm that the other was too distracted by his equipment to notice a last-minute revision to the equation. At long last, he hit "enter" and confirmed the parameters of the device that had brought them both there on that overcast night. After doing this, he turned around and fixed his eyes on the armored figure's back, his arms crossed.

"Do you understand the ramifications if you fail?"

He paused for barely a moment as he pulled on a pair of form-fitting Kevlar gloves. "Yes."

Green-eyes nodded slowly, lips pursed tightly. "Do you understand the ramifications if you _succeed_?"

The other stopped entirely, letting out a hard sigh as his tone went frosty. "Just open the damn portal."

He shrugged and turned back to the console. "As you wish."

A single button-press sent a signal to a nearby device linked to the console, a large U-shaped metal arch coming out of a wire-strewn pedestal. Through those thick wires coursed flickers of bright gold, flowing in and in and in, until the entire structure began to hum with power. Within seconds, the inside edges of the arch began to glow with sapphire light, and a moment later, an explosive whir sounded as space-time folded in on itself and tore open entirely. Contained within the confines of the arch was a large, swirling ring of sapphire energy, its center darker than the blackest night. With a small sigh, green-eyes turned to the armored figure, looking him up and down and noting only one piece still missing from his ensemble: the silvery Y-visor helmet currently sitting in his grasp.

"I would wish you good luck," said the green-eyed man, "but I'd be lying if I didn't admit a small part of me hopes you fail…for _your_ sake."

The other stared at his helmet for a second, then looked over at him with a bitter smile. "Guess you can add that to the long list of things we disagree on."

He tapped a certain place on the fabric on his neck, causing it to expand even further to cover his eyes, hair, and the area around his mouth and nose. His helmet went on over the retractable cowl, a near-inaudible click indicating its magnetic lock. After giving himself a last once-over, he strode toward the swirling portal and stood just beyond its mouth, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"Safe travels, brother."

His helmeted head turned to meet those green eyes one last time before turning back to the portal. "Goodbye, Damian."

And with that, he stepped through into the infinite vortex of space and time.

…

Gotham City

16 years ago

Such a small thing had never before felt quite so heavy. Granted, she had seen keys and books no larger than normal weigh more than the average semi, but in this particular case she suspected the weight had less to do with composition than it did significance. Perhaps that was why she was going to be late to her own rehearsal dinner. A flight that should've taken less than an hour had stretched to two, giving her more time to think—or overthink, depending on how she looked at it. Even now, her stomach was tying itself in knots. Years of planning, preparation, and struggle were finally coming to a head.

And as she looked down at the diamond sparkling on her finger, she saw for the briefest moment a kaleidoscope of possibility that pushed a wide grin onto her face.

That grin faded to a curious frown when she caught sight of something else glinting in the faint light cast by the moon and streetlights. Her blue eyes widened in alarm when her instincts told her exactly what that glint was, and both arms shot up in front of her face a split-second before a high-velocity projectile struck a pair of concealed bracers. The illusionary magic over her bracelets faded with the impact, and the glint of the sniper's scope gave her a point of origin as she lowered them. A split-second before the second shot went off, her flight pattern altered sharply, a supersonic crack sounding in her wake as she plunged toward the shooter in a wide arc.

Another glint flashed through her vision from the window of the second-highest floor of a dilapidated high-rise, and a final shot streaked from that window, reflecting off her bracers before she crashed through fists first. Shattered glass, plaster, and wood scattered in every direction inward of her point of entry as her fists opened and fingers clamped down on the shoulders of the shooter. Her forward momentum pinned them to the ground and dragged them halfway across an open room before they came to a stop and she got a good look at her attacker.

She snarled and drew back a fist as her other hand pinned the shooter to the ground by her neck. "Minerva."

The feline woman pinned to the ground gave her a smile that was all teeth and savagery. "Diana. Fancy meeting you here."

Before her fist could even begin to move, she grunted as a hard knee was planted in her lower ribs, nearly throwing her off. Minerva's sharp pivot to the left finished the job, hurling Diana clean off into an elegant corkscrew that landed her in a wide three-point crouch. Cheetah's rifle came up to her shoulder as she rolled into a crouch opposite Diana, nearly getting a bead on her before Diana lunged forward and shunted the barrel aside with one hand while the other clocked Minerva in the jaw. A crouch-kick to the gut sent Cheetah flying into a far wall, separated from her weapon, which Diana quickly tossed to the opposite end of the room.

The cursed woman snarled and bared her teeth as her claws unsheathed, the two pacing around each other for a moment before Cheetah lunged for her face. Diana snapped her head away from the strike, countering with a shin-kick to the midsection that her opponent caught and tucked against her side. Using her momentum against her, Minerva pivoted counterclockwise and threw Diana toward the broken window. A brief touch of antigravity was enough to stabilize her falling arc and keep Cheetah in her sights. Apparently, she was taking no chances this time, because she beelined for the fallen rifle as soon as she'd released Diana.

Di was having none of it.

Her legs coiled and snapped outward, sending her rocketing forward into a flying knee that catapulted Cheetah out another window into a long freefall to a nearby rooftop. Diana followed in a much more controlled descent, landing some dozen feet off and stalking toward her with a menacing air.

"What are you doing in Gotham?" she demanded.

Cheetah coughed hard and smiled venomously as she pushed herself onto all fours. "I would've thought the rifle made that rather obvious, Wonder Brat."

Minerva's coiled position put her in the perfect stance to lunge for Diana, almost too fast to deflect. Diana's pant-suit was doing very little for her maneuverability, but at least she wasn't wearing a skirt. All the same, it hampered her movement just enough for Cheetah's claws to graze along her left thigh, drawing a thin line of blood. She countered a five-swipe combo with a backflip kick that landed solidly on Minerva's sternum and launched her onto her back. She hand-sprung back onto her feet only to be launched back by a flying forearm charge that slammed her into a nearby AC unit.

Cheetah reached back with a snarl, tearing off the jagged grate of the AC unit and hurling it at Diana. Her bracelets collided with it with a loud _ping_ as she charged forward, the internal fan following a second later. The rest of the AC unit came last, dodged with a smooth airborne cartwheel that broke Diana's line of sight just long enough for Cheetah to lunge forward and slam her in the gut with a drop-kick. The wind was effectively knocked out of her as her side hit the gravel of the rooftop. Coughing hard, she clambered to her feet, her arms coming up to block a double falling claw swipe that left her vulnerable to a thrust-kick to the chest.

Dragging through the gravel, Diana scrambled to regain her footing as she felt a sharp breeze approach—and likely a set of claws to the back. That sharp breeze turned into an outright gale when an explosive whir erupted just between them, sending them both rolling through the gravel in opposite directions. Diana's head snapped up toward the source of the disturbance, eyes widening when she saw the roiling hole in reality. They widened further when it vanished, leaving behind a kneeling figure clad head to toe in steel-gray and black armor. The overall design and aesthetic were strikingly familiar, but what stood out the most was the helmet: Amazonian in design, but with a distinctly man-made flair.

As he slowly stood up, she noticed something else that immediately drew her eye: a pair of silver wings embossed on his chest, overlaid on a circular frame of red that made the silver stand out even more. When her eyes flickered to his helmet once more, she stopped short.

Whoever was in that helmet was staring right back at her with eyes like blue fire.

The moment of contact lasted for barely a second, but it was more than enough to make Diana uneasy. His attention shifted toward Cheetah, hands curling into tight fists. Apparently, what _she_ saw in his eyes was even more unnerving, because she took one look at him and bugged out, leaping straight off the rooftop without sparing either of them a second glance.

Diana blinked hard in disbelief—she'd never known her nemesis to run from a fight. What the newcomer did next gave her a hint as to why she'd fled the scene so quickly.

He reached down to his right hip, pulled a slim, chevron-ended cylinder hanging from a multi-pouch belt; and flicked a switch on its side that sent a 32-inch blade and prong-ended crossguard unfolding from its upper tip. Without a word or any further delay, he leapt off the rooftop in pursuit of Cheetah, followed quickly by Diana.

"Wait!" she called, catching sight of him on his way down.

Cheetah, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. It appeared his momentary delay had given her just enough time to break line of sight. Frowning, Diana returned her attention to the mysterious figure, whose descent slowed to a stop as he looked over his shoulder at her. His sword collapsed in on itself as soon as he met her eyes, and he took off toward a cluster of nearby buildings faster than she could catch up. He was flying at near-mach speeds, with every bit as much maneuverability as her, and he had a head start. As a result (despite the reflective nature of his armor), she lost track of him within a few turns. Even from a higher, birds-eye view, she couldn't seem to find him again for several minutes and figured he must have found refuge within one of the buildings.

Searching them all would've taken far too long, and besides, her objective was Cheetah. If Dr. Minerva was in town, she had one goal only: to make Diana's life a living hell. Having that happen on the night of her rehearsal dinner was unacceptable. As such, Diana backtracked toward the building where she'd tossed Cheetah's rifle only to find an empty room with two broken windows. Her teeth gritted.

 _She must've doubled back for it when we lost her._ A frown creased her forehead as she looked down at her torn pants and sighed. _Mending these is going to be such a headache._

Fortunately, the skin underneath had already mended, though the initial injury was little more than a scratch. It would be less to explain to the guests either way. Without a lead on Cheetah's location or the one who intervened, there was nothing more she could do but keep a weather eye out—and warn her groom-to-be of the danger. Ultimately, that was exactly what she did.

…

"A little liquid courage, sir?"

A tired, harried-looking Bruce Wayne turned to his faithful butler with a look that was bordering on pleading. "I really shouldn't. At this rate of stress, I'll burn through half our stock."

Alfred smirked wryly. "Price of being Gotham royalty, I'm afraid."

Bruce snorted and took a flute of champagne anyway, downing half of it in one go. _If they only knew who the_ bride _was._ He frowned as soon as he was done chugging. _Speaking of…_

"Alfred, has she shown up yet? We were supposed to start almost ten minutes ago."

The butler hummed absently as he rearranged a tray of hors d'oeuvres. "Not that I'm aware of, however with the sheer volume of guests in the manor, I can't say that's surprising. If she hasn't arrived yet, there must be a very good reason."

Bruce frowned harder. "I should give her a call."

"Cool your jets, Brucie," drawled a familiar voice. "I doubt a woman like her appreciates a _clingy_ man."

Bruce arched an eyebrow at her and the bespectacled man on her arm. "Well you would certainly know my type."

She laughed and held her date's arm closer when she noticed him getting a bit red-faced. "Easy Bruce, you wouldn't want my husband to blow a gasket now would you?"

He cleared his throat and looked around for any cameras before extending his hand to the… _slightly_ taller man. "Mr. Kent."

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at Clark's lips. "Mr. Wayne."

"Any chance of a Planet exclusive with you and the bride?" asked his wife.

Clark shot her a scandalized look. "Lois!"

She shrugged. "I'm just asking. As co-owner, I'd think you'd want your own paper to write nice things about you."

"Not that anyone would listen," Bruce replied. "I think they'd see it as nepotism."

Lois chuckled. "Fair enough." She glanced around. "You're right about one thing, though. She's _late_. Like, _really_ late." She checked Clark's watch. "She's never this late for anything."

Bruce pulled out his phone and was about to dial when he caught sight of an unmistakable pearl necklace. He blinked twice in rapid succession to remove a speck of dust, his vision crystal clear and roaming over the tall, raven-haired woman effortlessly gliding toward him from amongst the crowd of guests. Three years they'd been together, and she still got him to stare like a teenager. Diana smiled knowingly as she sidled up to him and laid a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, her tone clipped. "There was an…incident on the way here."

Lois and Clark looked between bride and groom nervously.

"Do we need to discuss this in private?" Clark asked.

She turned to him. "Bruce and I do. I'm sure you'll hear about it your own way."

He nodded slightly, taking the hint as the soon-to-be-married couple made their way into the empty study. Diana spent the next few minutes explaining her run-in with Cheetah in detail, from the weapon she used to the intervention of the mysterious armored man. By the end of her tale, Bruce was frowning hard.

"We need to cancel the rehearsal," was his first response.

"Bruce—"

"I'm serious. Attacking you tonight was no coincidence, and if she knows where you are, she'll try again. Having all these people around—and all the cameras—will only prevent us from stopping her."

Diana frowned. "And if we call it off now, she vanishes into the wind, probably along with whoever that man was."

Bruce steepled his fingers. "Which brings up another point. Did you recognize anything about him? His face, his fighting style? His armor?"

"I saw nothing of his face, only his eyes, and he never threw a punch. Though that sword of his was of peculiar design, and he certainly looked like he knew what to do with it. As for his armor…" She chewed her lower lip, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not sure. The helm certainly struck me as Amazonian, but they would never forge armor for a man; and the rest of his suit was much different. Overlapping plates as opposed to large pieces."

"What about the symbol on his chest? Did you recognize it?"

Her head shook. "Assuming an Amazon connection—which is unlikely—it could be a reference to the wings on my own armor. But again—"

"No Amazon would forge a suit like that for a man."

Another slow shake of the head. "There was definitely something…familiar about the design. And the way he arrived…"

"Gives us another dangerous unknown, yet another reason to cancel the rehearsal."

Diana gave him a reassuring smile. "Bruce, every window in Wayne Manor is bulletproof glass and she'd be assaulting a building full of Justice League members."

"Justice League members surrounded by press and cameras that have our hands tied."

She laid a hand on his. "If the worst does come to pass, I'm sure one or two of us can slip out undetected."

Bruce sighed hard. "I still think—"

She grabbed the sides of his head and made him meet her eyes. "Bruce Wayne, listen to my voice. We have been planning this wedding for the last nine months. I will not allow one cursed madwoman to ruin it."

He arched an eyebrow. "If something happens—"

"We'll deal with it—"

"—to _you_ …" his lips pursed, "and it could've been prevented with a simple delay—"

"Then I will take full responsibility."

His voice went quiet and gravelly. "Di…"

"Bruce," she interrupted with a brief kiss, "Minerva has tried her hardest to send me from this world, time and again. Every time, she has failed, and that will not change tonight." She smiled. "I promise."

He sighed hard and nodded slowly, gently pulling her a little into his lap and kissing her. When they pulled apart, he laid his forehead against hers, eyes closed and voice quiet.

"I love you."

Diana smiled and whispered her answer against his lips. "I love you too." She stood up abruptly and grabbed his hands. "Now, let's get this show rolling."

Bruce smiled a little and let her pull him upright. "Yes, ma'am."

…

All in all, the rehearsal went swimmingly until the time came for Bruce to go up and await the bride, who was arrayed in a deep turquoise number for the rehearsal. Bruce himself was outfitted in one of his usual business tuxes and standing next to the groomsmen. Clark, of course, was first in line as best man. Next down was Dick Grayson, then Tim Drake, Barry Allen, and finally the ringbearer: a snobbishly dapper Damian Wayne, whose appraising yet bored countenance bespoke his opinion on the whole affair. On the bride-side, Lois Lane stood in the place of the maid of honor. Behind her were Barbara Gordon (who was using a Wayne-Tech spinal brace to stand), "Clara" Kent, Dinah Lance-Queen, and Shayera Hol (whose wings were concealed with a holo-ring Cyborg cooked up for the occasion).

All were arrayed in the finest fabrics Wayne money could buy, mostly for the benefit of the cameras. Speaking of which, all eyes were on Bruce as the officiator, a balding minister from a Gotham church Wayne Enterprises had recently renovated, began to read off the script for the proceedings. Bruce tuned most of it out, making a note to mentally review it later. The rest of his mind was tuned on the wall-to-wall glass spanning most of the room's back wall, near the entrance. The door and surrounding walls were the only parts not left open to outside view, and as such gave Bruce a fairly large panoramic view of the Gotham City skyline some three miles in the distance.

His heart and mind were racing, though not because of the rehearsal. Such a brazen attempt on Diana's life so close to their wedding was yet another in a long list of incidents leading up to this day. A more superstitious man might have seen it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be. But Bruce was as stubborn as they came, and the Batman did not succumb to superstition—he _caused_ it. In truth, Cheetah's plot to end Diana didn't worry him so much as the new player. By Diana's own account, he'd emerged from some kind of dimensional portal at the _exact_ moment she'd been in danger of being flayed by Minerva's claws. Though he'd shown no sign of hostility toward Diana, his unwillingness to communicate his intentions and the circumstances of his arrival raised significant cause for concern in his mind.

After all, it wouldn't have been the first time someone from another universe tried to start trouble—or brought it with them.

As the minister began to close in on the processional section of the script, Bruce's mind snapped back to reality, noting Clark and Dick giving him a concerned look. He sent a small reassuring wave in their direction before facing the entrance door. The room they were hosting the rehearsal in was one of Wayne Manor's many ballrooms, connected to the city-facing lawn by a short, enclosed hallway that led to a small garden and gazebo. Diana was waiting in that hallway to be called out, and Bruce's faithful butler was notably missing. Amusement tugging at his lips, he allowed himself a small smile as the minister called her out and a stock music track began to play.

He tuned it all out and focused on the door, which opened to reveal his bride, who in her heels was just slightly taller than the gray-templed man escorting her down the aisle. Bruce couldn't help but smile, his heart beating a drumroll against his chest with every step she took. After a small whispered exchange between Diana and Alfred, she looked up at him and met his eyes. For the briefest of moments, he forgot all about Cheetah, all about Gotham, about Batman, his life's mission. For that single moment of contact, there was only Diana. A few years, hell, a few _months_ ago, even that brief lapse of focus would've terrified him. Now it was just something he'd learned to live with, a blessed perk of the life he now had outside his mask.

Bruce could never really turn the Batman off, and Diana knew it. It was one of many things she'd had to come to terms with as their relationship had evolved. But having met someone equally as stubborn and devoted to his mission gave him a new perspective, and a degree of balance he'd always dismissed as impossible. The Batman would never truly sleep, but he now knew his place.

The realization alone made him smile. Diana smiling back made him smile wider.

They both vanished when her eyes turned from his eyes to his chest, when mirth turned to horror, and she screamed his name a split-second before the far window shattered.

…

Diana's brief moment of panic was quickly offset by a realization that put her mind somewhat at ease: her husband-to-be was standing right next to Superman. When the sound of shattering glass reached her ears, her eyes snapped back and up, to the window currently spraying debris all over the entrance. Her massively enhanced reflexes allowed her to see it at last: a bullet, of the same shape and size as the ones fired from Cheetah's rifle, streaking straight toward Bruce's chest. She tracked its path back up through the window, the trajectory aiming above the treetops of the surrounding forest—which made no sense.

Cheetah didn't fly.

However, that was hardly her main concern as the supersonic projectile speared toward her beloved. In the millisecond before impact, she turned to face Bruce, expecting the hand of his glasses-wearing best man to snap out faster than mortal eyes could see and snatch it from the air. The actual intervention was a bit…a _lot_ more high-profile. Specifically, the skyline directly above the platform occupied by the bride and groom's parties shattered, and the same armored figure from the rooftop descended feet-first between Bruce and the bullet. Two gauntleted arms crossed over his face, and the round shattered against them like cheap glass.

Diana had little time to process that before another break occurred and she whirled around to see another shot heading for her. She found herself harshly pushed to the floor when that same armored man flew past her and deflected the second shot with his left gauntlet. Her speed of perception returned to real-time, and Alfred grabbed her shoulders to haul her upright as the entire room descended into chaos. Another shot came through, stopped in its tracks once more by the mysterious rescuer as everyone scrambled to clear out into the adjacent rooms. Diana caught Bruce's eye from across the ballroom, exchanging a small nod as they went separate ways only to converge on the same spot: the study.

She'd been in and out of the house more than enough over the years to know every which way to and from that room. With Alfred running interference with the guests and press, and an unspoken agreement for the Leaguers present not to make a scene, Bruce and Diana approached the study's grandfather clock unopposed. Not a word passed between them as Bruce set the clock's time to 10:47. A loud click sounded as the clock swung outward, revealing a darkened passageway into the secret undercroft of the manor. Primitive stone and traditional masonry quickly gave way to more modern engineering as parallel strings of lights lit up the passage and illuminated the entrance of a high-speed elevator that opened to permit them entry.

As soon as the doors slid shut, Diana's stomach dropped a bit with their sudden acceleration, and she gave her fiancé a long look.

"I guess we know which side he's on."

…

Once they reached the entrance of the Batcave, it took them a scant sixty seconds to suit up. She always kept a spare suit in his cave for this exact purpose, though this one was redesigned to better fit the darker, grittier aesthetic of Gotham City. That particular acquisition was…well, she had a bit of help from the ladies. As point of fact, most of her bridal party had been there for that…event. Kara put her designing skills to good use, Dinah had some input with the aesthetics, and Barbara helped with functionality.

The end result? Her traditional red-and-gold breastplate had been changed to silver and a darker red, with a fiber-armored navy-blue jacket not dissimilar from Dinah's adding a little extra protection. The usual one-piece design of the top and bottom had been abandoned for this suit, giving her instead a set of navy skintight Kevlar leggings, with calf-high boots lined with ceramic armor plating. Her Bracelets of Submission changed little, considering they were bound to her soul and able to be summoned to her person at any time. The final piece was a steel-gray circlet bearing her classic red star, and was the last part of her armor to be donned before Bruce came from his own armor chamber and turned on the Batcomputer.

"I had Tim and Dick double back to the ballroom when the shots stopped coming, get data on the angle and trajectory of the bullets." Said data was reflected on-screen in a wireframe projection of the room they'd just vacated. "According to this, the shots came from beyond the treeline—" a long, glowing line was drawn from the manor, "—all the way from Gotham."

Diana's brows furrowed. "That's impossible. No one is capable of taking a shot from that far away. No one _human_ anyhow. Not even Cheetah."

Bruce frowned. "Unless there was something special about the weapon itself. Why use a laser sight at such a distance? Factors of wind, humidity, and even Earth's rotation would've rendered it completely obsolete."

"Unless the rounds were drawn to the laser's path," came a new voice from the elevator.

They both turned to see a tieless Damian striding toward the computer. He hit a few keys before either of them could respond, bringing up a case file from a few months back.

"According to Black Bat, an arms dealer in Cambodia was peddling smart rounds to the local militia: self-propelled, laser-guided bullets capable of maintaining accuracy up to five miles from the target."

"Cheetah must've gotten her hands on a shipment," said Diana. "And with her abilities, she would've been able to keep the rifle steady enough to stay locked on."

Bruce continued the trajectory's path to a 3D projection of Gotham. "That gives us one good perch from which to hit both of us."

Damian snorted and crossed his arms, his smaller form giving the perfect picture of disgruntled heir. "How's _that_ for irony?"

Bruce glanced back at him. "Suit up. Diana, you can get there faster."

She nodded and put an earpiece on. "I'll keep in contact, let you know what I find." Moments later, she exited the cave via the tunnel used for the Batwing, tapping her earpiece to establish a link to the Batcave. "What happened back in the ballroom?"

Damian's voice answered over her commlink. "No one was hit, and the shots stopped as soon as you two cleared out. You were definitely the targets."

"And the man who intervened?"

"Left the way he came, and went supersonic a few seconds later. Based on the direction of the sound, I'd say he went after the shooter."

Diana put a little extra power into her flight, going supersonic herself. "Then we need to hurry. If he finds her first, I get the feeling there won't be much left of whoever loses."

…

Damian's earlier comment about "irony" glared Diana in the face as she touched down on the rooftop perch from which the shots were most likely fired. Specifically, the central tower of Wayne Enterprises, which appeared deserted at first glance.

She tapped her earpiece. "Batman, I don't see any signs of—" she stopped short as something caught her eye, "—hold on."

Diana strode over to a rooftop AC unit with several score-marks, some that looked like claws, but one that looked considerably different, like a razor. She looked around for other signs of battle and found a small bit of concrete clipped off one of the safety rails. Tracing the path of battle downward, she spotted another set of claw-marks and began to piece together what had happened here.

…

 _Barbara Minerva was known for many things, chief among them a fiery temper matched only by the sharpness of her claws. So, to have her ultimate vengeance thwarted twice, in quick succession, by a player she'd never even heard of, was the greatest slap in the face she could've imagined. Thus, her vengeful fury was redirected to the newcomer, who'd taken off toward her at frightening speed as soon as Diana and her man-pet had cleared the ballroom. The entire magazine of smart-rounds was expended in the time it took for him to close the distance, not a single shot landing despite her precision._

 _His opening move was a flying shoulder charge that just missed her rolling form. She brought her rifle around like a bludgeon and managed to score a glancing blow on his shoulderblade. He rolled with it, touching down on the rooftop and sliding through the gravel a few paces while whirling toward her. Those cold blue eyes peered out at her from behind his helmet, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine. What was it about this man that set her so on edge? Either way, her bulky weapon was becoming more of a liability than a boon at this range, so she slung it and unsheathed her claws with a snarl._

 _The little bit of his face she could pick out showed him snarl back and lunge to meet her in the middle. Magic claws met metal vambraces as he crossed his arms in front of him, both struggling, testing each other's strength._

 _"Who are you?" she growled._

 _He didn't answer except to push harder, getting her just off-balance enough to nail her with a low knee just out of her field of vision. The blow_ hurt _, like getting hit with a flying cinderblock. The shin-kick to the lower ribs hurt worse and sent her stumbling a few steps. Baring her fangs, Cheetah surged toward him with a flurry of kicks to the head and shoulder. All of them were blocked in rapid succession with his bracers, his boxer's guard effectively turtling him up. Grinning madly, she used his constricted form to trip him with a vicious spin-kick that would've dislocated the joints of a lesser being. As it stood, he hovered mid-fall and fixed her with a fierce glare before planting both his feet in her chest and catapulting her back through the gravel._

 _He lunged forward before she could recover and shoved her into a nearby AC unit, then reached to his right hip and pulled something off his belt. Cheetah's eyes widened when she saw it expand into a 32" double-edged sword and swing for her neck. She ducked to the side and countered with a sideways swipe when his blade carved a long line through the unit. He snapped his head away from her attack, using his blade to parry her claws with inhuman precision. A torrent of strikes bore down on him from every direction, many of her attacks boring deep gashes into the AC unit when he dodged._

 _So caught up was she in maintaining her onslaught that she failed to notice one of his hands leave the hilt of the sword and retrieve a strangely-designed gun from his belt. She shrieked when a sharp pain pierced her lower right side, eyes glancing down to see a thin filament sticking out of her tawny skin. Her eyes widened in realization a split-second before he lunged backward and yanked hard with a growl, the force behind his pull hurling her toward the concrete rail on the far side of the rooftop and yanking the metal barb from beneath her skin. Pressing one hand to the small hole in her side, Cheetah looked up to see him flying toward her with murder in his eyes and that sword in his hand._

 _She threw her hands up in a guard, feeling the edge of his sword bite into her fingers as they wrapped around the blade, just managing to keep it away from her face. His forward momentum carried them both over the edge, and she snapped out a hand to grasp the rail as their combined weight pulled them down. They hung for a moment before a hard yank from below broke off the piece of the rail she was holding onto, sending them tumbling through the air. She released the blade of his sword and kicked him off, digging her claws into the building's wall and slowing her descent for barely a second before being grabbed again and carried into the empty air._

 _The pommel of his sword struck her in the face, her teeth snapping out at his face and finding only empty air as he used his air superiority to reorient them and get an arm around her neck. One of her hands was focused on keeping that accursed sword away from her, while the other tried to find a weak point on the arm currently throttling her. Near as she could tell, his gauntlets were all but impervious, so she aimed a little higher and clawed behind her, trying to gouge out his eyes. She had only a few seconds of struggle before her mind caught up to her environment and barely a split-second to brace herself before she crashed face-first through the roof of a building._

…

Diana cautiously descended through the hole, entering the top floor of a Wayne Enterprises warehouse scheduled for demolition. A blessed thing, too, since the place already looked trashed from their conflict. It didn't take much for Diana to follow the trail of destruction, though there seemed to be some overlap in places due to doubling back. A loud crash from two floors down caught her attention and prompted her to fly down the nearest stairwell, turning a corner to see the two locked in furious combat.

The "knight" had his sword-edge mere inches from Cheetah's throat, and same for her claws on him, but he had her pinned to the ground and gravity on his side. That ceased to be the case when she snapped her legs up to pinch his neck and shoulder in a triangle choke and twisted him face-first into the ground. She managed to slip his grip and slash her claws across his back, pulling a harsh yell from his throat and prompting Diana to surge forward. As she drew closer, she could see the effects of their battle on both of them: Cheetah had numerous bruises and small cuts strewn all over her body; his armor was perforated in a few critical points, blood seeping through some of them while others seemed more like grazes.

When Diana clotheslined Minerva into a wall, she could feel her old enemy's exhaustion in how little she resisted. Still, she knew better than to underestimate the cursed woman and kept her distance, opting instead to put a hand on the mysterious knight's shoulder.

"Are you all ri—"

He abruptly shoved her aside and lunged for Cheetah, sword held underhandedly as if to stake her to the ground. Diana got over her momentary shock and reached to her hip to hurl the Lasso of Truth around his armed wrist. The golden cord went taut a second later, stopping his flying form in its tracks and yanking him back-first against the ground. A groan passed from his throat as Cheetah snarled and took advantage of his prone state to lunge for his heart. Diana heaved hard, pulling the knight well out of Minerva's reach and into her own. She grabbed his shoulders firmly, both to keep his shaky form upright and restrain him from doing anything reckless.

"Hold on," she implored. "You're badly injured."

His piercing blue eyes glanced back at her from behind the helmet, his answering voice gruff and gravelly, but artificially so. "Not so injured to stop now."

He tensed a moment before once again attempting to lunge for Cheetah, but Diana put a quick stop to that when she snapped the Lasso's hold on his wrist once more, then attempted to loop the cable around his other arm as well. He juked his wrist away from her grasp and dropped his sword into his free left hand, using the blade as a lever to widen the Lasso's loop and free his right arm. She made a grab for his head, but he ducked sharply and used his sword's crossguard to nail the Lasso to the ground by its loop when he drove it in to the hilt. The knight sprung backward into a twist-flip that landed him in a sprint toward Cheetah, who had unslung her rifle and swung it toward him like a bludgeon.

He ducked her first swipe, countering with a rising uppercut that missed when she twirled around him and elbowed him in the back, in one of his injuries. He flinched as Diana released the Lasso and flew toward Cheetah boot-first. She ducked and rolled away from the Amazon, spinning into a wide rifle-butt swing aimed at Diana's face. One bracer came up to block the strike, caving in the rifle-butt partway, but Cheetah used her high stance to hit her in the knee with a snap-kick, overextending the joint just enough to make her kneel in pain. She didn't get the chance to follow up on it when the knight leapt over Diana's crouching form and nailed Cheetah in the face with a flying knee.

She handsprung backward, using her momentum to twirl into another spin and keep swinging her damaged bludgeon. Two more strikes impacted the knight's bracers before a third was stopped in its tracks. Cheetah tried to yank the rifle loose, staring at its point of impact in confusion until his unoccupied vambrace sprouted a trio of arm-blades with a threatening _click_. Those blades swung for her neck, just missing when she snapped her head back. He brought the arm in the opposite direction in a falling cut, shearing through the rifle instead when she dropped her stance and realigned it to block him. The ruined weapon was cut in two when the blades passed through the center of its barrel.

Cheetah's lower stance allowed her to plant both feet in his gut, lifting him off the ground and leaving him vulnerable to a counterattack with the unstuck half of her rifle. A single bludgeoning shot landed on his head as she simultaneously mule-kicked him across the room. The resulting impacts knocked the wind out of him and his helmet clean off, revealing a fiber-armored cowl underneath that obscured most of his features, including his hair. Cheetah windmilled her legs as she scrambled to her knees, grinning at him madly as he tried to regain his bearings. Dropping the dead weight, she galloped toward him on all fours, lunging with her claws extended, aiming to skewer him with all ten.

A flying shin-kick from the side broke four of her ribs and promptly put a stop to that.

Wonder Woman didn't let up for a second.

Backhand, cross, uppercut, knee. Diana rained punishment down on her old enemy until she began to stagger and lashed out with one last desperate attack that grazed her cheek. Diana's counterattack left much more of an impact. Her right fist drove into Minerva's solar plexus with bone-crushing force, winding and leaving her vulnerable to a follow-up tornado kick that snapped across her jaw and decked her instantly. Cheetah let out a small, incoherent groan before falling limp, her eyes slipping shut. Breathing a little heavily, Diana turned her attention to the de-helmeted knight, whose cowl revealed severe, youthful features. His eyes barely wavered from the prone murderer at Diana's feet.

She held her hands up to calm him. "Easy. This fight is over."

His eyes flickered to the sword pinning her Lasso to the ground. "Not until she's dead!"

He lunged for the weapon and tore it loose with a hard yank, flying for Cheetah's unconscious form and finding himself waylaid when Diana tackled him to the wall. He elbowed her in the gut, trying his hardest to get loose, and managed to throw her off. She used her momentum to snatch up the Lasso and snapped it around his left ankle before he could get any closer to his target. Another steady pull brought him back to her, his blade attempting to wedge itself into the loop to widen it again. She put an abrupt stop to that when her fist slammed the crossguard hard enough to snap it from his grip.

He sent two rapid punches at her head, easily slapped aside and countered with a grab of his collar that allowed her to imprison his right arm in the golden cable. He continued to struggle with all his might, but any time he tried to strike out at her, it was clear he was holding back. That made her objective—to restrain and effectively hogtie him—all the easier. Within moments, a few grappling moves and a cartwheel over his form later, and she'd ensnared all his limbs in the glowing cable, pulling it taut to render him immobile.

"Enough!" she shouted, standing behind him with her hands on the Lasso. "It's clear you mean me no harm, but this is _not_ the way."

"It's the _only_ way!" he insisted, his voice almost pleading as he lunged forward ineffectively.

" _Stop_ ," Diana ordered, the effects of the Lasso's hypnotic pull stopping him in his tracks—though she could feel him physically vibrating with resistance. "Who are you, and why are you so insistent on her murder?"

His shaking only intensified as he fought the effects of his entrapment.

Diana frowned and pulled the cable tighter. "The Lasso of Hestia compels you to tell the truth; _talk_. Tell me your name, and the pain will stop."

The knight's breathing became labored and clipped, his struggles against the Lasso and its wielder seeming to fade when Diana heard movement coming from the stairwell and was briefly distracted by it. His struggles intensified sharply at the diversion when he dropped his weight on his left side hard, pulling Diana slightly off balance. He also managed to free his left hand, which snapped to his belt and pulled something from one of its many pouches. She lunged downward to get hold of his arm again, but failed to do so before he threw the object in his hand with all his might.

Diana flipped over him, still grasping the Lasso, and snapped her empty hand out to try and catch it, but was prevented when the knight pulled back on the cable and stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes widened sharply when she caught a closer look at the object, its spinning arc bringing it ever closer to the unconscious villain at the far corner of the room. The rhythmic _whir_ of its razor-sharp edges stopped abruptly with a _snap_ when a living shadow dashed from the stairwell and stepped into its path. Diana took a breath, then another, and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the Batman holding the thrown weapon, pinned between his palms.

He slowly lowered his arms, fingers wrapping around one end of it and holding it in front of his face to give it a closer look. His dark blue eyes widened in shock when he saw what she had only moments earlier, exchanging a look with his fiancé, who nodded in confirmation. Batman looked back at Cheetah, fitting her with specialized shock-cuffs before striding over to the captured fighter and holding the weapon in front of his face: a predominantly black, silver-edged blade.

Forged in the shape of a bat.

"Where did you get this?" demanded the Dark Knight.

When the knight's lips remained tight, Wonder Woman tugged on the Lasso, making it glow brighter. "Answer him."

His lips and entire face trembled with exertion at fighting the effects before he gave a little and quietly uttered, "From you."

Batman blinked. "Explain. Who are you?"

The knight's jaw clenched with inhuman strength as he fought with all his might not to answer.

Diana gripped the Lasso tighter, increasing its magical pull. "Tell us your name, _now_." When he continued to fight, her voice hardened. "Your _name_."

He kept struggling, looking on the verge of tears as his eyes darted between them. With a final tremble of his lips, he began to speak, his voice coming out in a hiss, raspy and clipped with exertion.

"Jason—"

Diana blinked as she sensed Bruce tense at her side.

"—Thomas—"

Bruce's lips parted and her eyes widened as all the pieces began to fall in place, a small part of her hoping she was wrong.

"—Wayne." With the final utterance, he heaved and gasped for breath, his secret out and efforts to resist for naught. "My name is Jason Thomas Wayne." His eyes slowly drifted upward, meeting Diana's as he looked at her piteously. "Hi Mom." His gaze shifted to Bruce. "Hi Dad."

Diana gaped at him in shock, Bruce keeping himself only slightly more composed.

Jason smiled ruefully and threw his hands up as far as they could go in his entrapment, his voice lilting with sarcastic mirth. "Surprise!"

* * *

AN: So…eight months. Wow. This is by far the longest dry spell I've had since starting on this site. I'm more than a little disappointed with myself. But, you can't rush art, and with my eight-month sabbatical came a slew of new ideas, including this fun little concept. If you know anything about me and DC Comics, it's that I am a _manic_ Batman-Wonder Woman shipper, thanks entirely to Bruce Timm's depiction of the two in _Justice League_ and _Justice League Unlimited_.

A couple years back, I'd had an idea to write a story detailing how they get together in my Earth-1 continuum (which blends certain Arrowverse plotlines and characters with classic DC), and I still plan to write that, but it occurred to me at some point that a number of authors on this site have already shown that stage of their relationship. There are a _ton_ of slow burn BM-WW stories on this site, exemplifying how their relationship starts, yet very few I've seen that focus on the time when they're already together.

For me, that's the most important stage of any romantic relationship; it's where all the growth happens. That said, this story begins _way_ down the line from that, about three years in fact, and as you've already seen, the Bat Family is a bit on the large side, and Bruce and Diana are about to be married. With that context in mind, that brings me to the main point of writing this story, yet another thing I've always wondered about when it comes to these two. Specifically, what it would be like for them to have a kid together.

Thus, Jason Thomas Wayne was born. I've spent months fleshing out his character and story, and I hope I can do him the justice he deserves. He will undoubtedly be the main focus of this story, since the title itself bears his codename, but I would be remiss if I didn't include a host of other related characters in the mix, both established and original. For those of you who've read _Assassins and Queens_ …well, first off I'd like to apologize for that absolute mess that needs to be rewritten. I wrote it during an adolescent, hormonal stage where writing was my only escape from the nightmare that is high school, and it shows. For the few of you who liked it, Caden Drake will be making appearances in this story, along with two other original DC characters, one of whom you've already seen in another story.

Other notable appearances will include the Red Hood, Black Bat, and Supergirl, to name a few.

By the time I release this story, I will have written at least at least one solid story arc, so keep an eye out for more content in the next days. I am definitely looking forward to writing more, if I can keep my inspiration up for this. I'm starting to get my flow back, though, which is a great sign after eight months of inactivity. The last time I came out of a dry spell this long, I wrote non-stop for a solid year, so I'm hoping for the best.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this newest entry into my library and are looking forward to more.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Wonder Woman - Wonder Woman's Wrath: start-1:11—fast-approaching target/Wayne Enterprises duel/grabbing the Knight, 1:11-1:20—"Hold on"/"Not so injured", 1:20-2:44—Wonder Woman vs Knight vs Cheetah/helmet knockoff, 2:44-3:08—flying shin-kick/Amazon beatdown/KO, 3:08-end—"This fight is over"/batarang throw/"Surprise!"


	2. Jason

In the years they'd spent on the job, Batman and Wonder Woman had experienced more than their fair share of strange occurrences. Alien invasions, breachers from other Earths, even time travelers. But meeting their own offspring from the future? _That_ was a new one. Of course, Batman didn't fully believe it at first. Ever the skeptic, he made a point of taking blood and saliva samples from their "son" and _thoroughly_ testing and retesting them against their own DNA using every test known to man—and a few known to Kryptonians. All told, thanks to WayneTech's advanced DNA sequencing, the results came back in a little over an hour, long enough for word to get around the manor that the rehearsal would be postponed to the following week.

At present, Diana was reassuring Clark and Lois that everything was fine and seeing them and the rest of the guests off. Bruce made a few token appearances as lord of the manor, but spent most of the time waiting in the cave, where he was keeping Jason under tight watch. The moment the sequencer beeped in completion, he straightened up and rolled up to the Batcomputer, staring intently at the monitor. His eyes widened at the results.

 _99.9% match…damn._

He let out a long, tired breath and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been hoping against hope that it was a lie, to be honest. Knowledge that he and Diana would eventually have kids of their own, or _a_ kid at least, was somewhat exciting, but the fact that he had seen fit to visit them in the past—on a mission of assassination no less—told him something had gone wrong. And if he'd learned anything from the Justice League's token experiences with time travel, it was that knowing too much about your future was a _very_ bad idea. Which, in hindsight, was probably why he'd tried to just kill Cheetah and get out.

Speaking of whom, she'd been hauled out of Gotham to a STAR Labs containment cell by the Flash minutes after they'd subdued her. Apparently, she tried to break out on the way, but Batman's new shock cuff design proved more than a match for her pain threshold. Jason hadn't said a word since seeing their dumbstruck expressions in the warehouse, retreating into himself in a way Bruce had only ever seen in the mirror. The longer he stared at his son from the future through the camera feeds to his cell, the more he began to see the similarities between them, and Diana as well.

Jason's skin tone was a light olive complexion, closer to Diana's than his own; and with facial structure like his, the kid couldn't be much older than sixteen. His eyes mirrored both of them, though they were notably on the dark side, almost grey if seen in the right lighting. His build was very similar to Dick's, lean and tall—around 5'10"—but heavily toned, from what little he could see through the armor's undersuit. Which brought up another matter entirely. Jason's equipment was a fascinating blend of modern science and ancient forging, with all the bells and whistles he'd expect from a WayneTech combat suit, but an aesthetic flair that harkened to ancient gladiators—or perhaps knights.

Considering his own moniker, he figured the latter was the intention.

The click of the elevator doors opening at his back alerted him to his fiancé's arrival. He reached a hand up when he felt her arm draw around his neck, her chin gently resting on his head.

"Has he said anything?" she asked.

His head shook slightly. "Not a word since we brought him back."

Diana frowned. "That tends to happen when you throw someone in a cage."

Bruce shot her a look. "We knew next to nothing about him when he appeared. We _still_ know next to nothing, other than the fact that he's borne of our genes and claims to be from the future."

"Considering the perfection of his timing, both on that rooftop and during the rehearsal, I'm inclined to believe him."

His lips pursed as he returned his eyes to the feed. "So am I. Which brings us to our latest dilemma."

"What do we do with a child that's not supposed to be here?"

…

"You don't look so tough."

Jason's blue eyes blinked twice before he turned his head toward the source of the voice, a shorter teen in a domino mask dressed like a traffic light. "Right back at 'ya," he replied with a frown.

Robin arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Father says you're his progeny. Strange; I thought Prince was too pure for such dalliances."

He blinked again. "Who?"

He sighed as if talking to a particularly slow parrot. "Diana Prince, soon to be Diana Wayne."

"Oh." Jason felt his cheeks heat without his permission. "She is."

"…a clone, then? Created by splicing their DNA?"

He snorted and leaned back on his hands. "Ever the avid conspiracy theorist, aren't you Dami?"

Robin's eyes widened just enough to be noticed.

Jason sighed. "Not a clone, or a homunculus. Born the old-fashioned way, a little less than a year from now."

"Time traveler. That explains a lot.'

"Yup. Now if you don't mind, I'd like a brief reprieve before I get reamed out by—"

He sighed hard when a new, heavier set of footsteps cut him off.

"Too late," Jason muttered, turning himself to face the de-masked Batman and Wonder Woman.

Bruce brought a hand up to the keypad outside his cell (which was constructed of depleted Promethium) and opened the door, permitting himself and his bride-to-be entry. Bruce took a chair right across the cell from him, while Diana opted to sit next to him.

Jason gulped, seeing the intense looks in their eyes, and bit his lower lip briefly before leaning toward Diana and embracing her tightly. Taken aback, she was stunned and frozen for a moment before gently cradling his head, which was laid on her shoulder.

"Sorry," he muttered as he straightened up and cleared his throat. "Had to do that."

Bruce eyed them for a moment longer before speaking. "Like you had to kill Cheetah?"

Jason snorted ruefully. "Right for the jugular, huh? Guess some things never change."

"We just want to understand what brought you here," Diana added soothingly, with a hand on his back.

His lips pursed tightly. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did, so talk to us."

When he still refused to speak, Damian strode into the room and pilfered Diana's Lasso before she could snatch it back and snapped it around his neck.

"Father asked you a _question_ ," Robin almost snarled.

"Damian, that's _enough_ ," Bruce scolded icily as Diana snatched the golden cable from his hands.

The Wayne heir crossed his arms and cast Jason a glare. "He's wasting our time. I'm not convinced he isn't an impostor, a plant to get our guard down. He's given us no reason to trust him."

"Other than stepping between us and Cheetah's fire?"

Damian snorted. "Neither of you was in any real danger. Kent would've grabbed the bullet headed for you, and she could easily have caught the one targeting her."

A quiet voice stopped their argument short.

"You first met when the Batwing was shot down and nearly crashed into the Washington Monument."

Three pairs of eyes snapped to the quiet teen sitting on the cot.

"Mom scolded Dad for being so reckless when she pulled him out of the cockpit." Jason's lips twitched with a nostalgic smile. "He threw her a smirk when she tossed an alien ship into the pillars of the Lincoln Memorial not an hour later."

Bruce blinked and eyed him curiously.

"Their first date was all over Gotham; he practically gave her a tour of the city's high life. The second ended in a local pizza joint on 13th Street." His smile faded a bit. "He threw her out of his life when she found out who he was." Jason looked up just enough to catch Bruce's eye. "It was the first time you ever admitted to being scared when Gotham was under siege and she showed up to help you anyway. She dueled Talia al Ghul for you and won, overcame having her powers stripped by the very gods who bestowed them, and helped you and the League save a whole other world from tearing itself apart.

"You proposed to her in a hospital bed, while she was comatose and Scarecrow laid waste to the city; left the ring on the table as a promise to be there when she was ready. You didn't know until after the crisis was over that she'd heard every word." Jason smiled wider. "And you only found out because when you walked through the door, she was wearing that ring on her finger." He gulped hard as memories came rushing through his head like a flood. "You sang jazz to break a curse on her," his gaze turned to his mother, "and _you_ fought one of your own sisters to save him from a male-targeting neurovirus."

Jason looked at both of them, back and forth, his gaze eventually settling on Robin. "I know my parents like I know my own _name_ …just like I know yours, Damian." His head shook. "I'm not a plant, and I'm not a lie." He frowned deeply. "Just trying not to break reality."

Bruce ran a hand over his face and sighed hard. "And while we appreciate that, the very fact that you're even _here_ presents a significant problem."

"I know."

Diana's lips pursed. "Why _are_ you here? And what does it have to do with Cheetah?"

Jason gulped hard. "In…in the future…the time I came from…" he looked between them, "you're both dead."

They stopped short, speechless. He picked up the slack.

"Murdered."

Diana blinked. "By Cheetah."

He bowed his head and nodded slowly.

"And you thought if you could kill her before that happened—" Bruce began.

"I know, I know, manipulating the timeline for personal gain—"

" _Never_ ends well," Diana interrupted. "Just ask Barry Allen."

Jason snorted derisively. "I did, and he said I should do it."

Bruce scowled. "I seriously doubt it, considering what he went through after Flashpoint."

Jason's jaw tightened as he looked away. "I couldn't do nothing."

"I understand that urge, that thirst for vengeance. But even if you had succeeded, you would've lost in the end."

He huffed. "Nonsense. You'd still be alive."

"But _you_ wouldn't," said Diana. Her head shook, eyebrows knitted in concern. "At least, not this version of you."

Jason smiled sardonically. "Perfect then. You both get to live, and you never see a timeline where your son grows up to become a murderer. It's a win-win."

" _Jason_ ," Bruce scolded.

He shot to his feet, blue eyes blazing furiously. "I did not come _all this way_ to give up now!"

Diana stood with him, a calming hand on his arm. "Then don't."

Every Wayne in the room stared at her in confusion.

She frowned. "But resorting to cold-blooded murder is not the way. If our survival means sacrificing a part of your soul, it simply isn't worth it."

Jason's jaw tightened visibly. "It is to me."

She put a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly. "I know it feels that way. I've stood where you stand more times than I can count. But it isn't just you who will be affected if you go through with this."

Bruce stood up on his left. "She's right. If and when you're born, we'll never be able to look at you the same way. Every memory we have will be tainted by what you became."

Jason stared at them, slowly turning his head to look back at an intently watching Damian.

 _A cold,_ _detached voice accompanied agonized pants as a perpetual drip sounded in the background. "Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how much does this hurt?"_

 _Manic, incoherent screams answered._

 _The cold voice continued. "Excellent. Now, this next part is_ very _important." A few clicks sounded before he continued. "When I do_ this _—"_

 _The screams returned, twice as loud as before. The cold voice became hard and laced with venom._

 _"—can you still laugh?"_

Jason blinked hard and shook himself off before turning to face his parents' eager stares. With a small sigh, he calmed himself and nodded. "Fine. I'll find another way."

Diana smiled. "Better."

Bruce's lips pursed as he threw her a sideways look, a telltale sign that they'd be having a separate conversation in private. His focus returned to Jason a moment later. "In the meantime, I think it's for the best if you stay out of sight as much as possible."

He arched an eyebrow. "You want me to stay down here?"

"He means out of the public eye," Damian explained. "Did the same thing to me when _I_ first came to live here."

Jason blinked. "Oh. Then…guest room?"

Bruce quirked a small smile. "I'll have Alfred make it up while we grab something from the kitchen."

Diana threw an arm around his shoulders as they escorted him toward the elevator. "With all the running around you've been doing tonight, I'm willing to bet you've built up quite the appetite."

A fierce rumble from his stomach answered before he could.

At that, Diana laughed, Damian rolled his eyes, Bruce smirked, and Jason turned beet-red before smiling. Throughout their journey to the elevator—and a change of clothes—Jason's eyes kept dragging themselves back to Damian, a frown fighting for control of his features. His periodic gazes did not go unnoticed, either by the subject, or the man who fathered both of them.

…

"So…this is just about the weirdest family meeting ever. Even weirder than the one that brought _you_ home. Sorry, Dami. I know you wanted to hold onto that one."

Damian's reply of, "Shut _up_ , Drake," was uttered through clenched teeth and brought a chuckle to two of the older "kids" in the room.

Diana smiled at their antics, Tim kept grinning at having pushed Damian's buttons, and Bruce just pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off his growing headache. While Tim and Damian were going at it, and Dick was sending Bruce silent (grinning) reassurance from across the room, Jason looked Barbara up and down, his eyes settling on her legs.

She caught him looking in her peripherals and smirked. "See something you like?"

"What?" He blinked and blushed, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, no. I'm just…uh, the brace?"

Barbara smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I won't be doing any ballroom dancing during the reception, but it's good enough for the basics."

Jason's head shook. "No, I mean, why aren't you using the Helix-5?"

Her red eyebrows shot up. "The what?"

"Proprietary spinal implant tech developed by Helix Dynamics, designed specifically to restore limb function to paralytics. It was their flagship product, and if my memory is correct—which it always is—they should've released the first prototype for human trials about…" he looked up in thought, "four, five months ago?"

She stared at him blankly.

He shrugged. "Just saying. You should check it out. Something to consider."

Barbara exchanged a dumbstruck look with Dick before returning her attention to Jason. "Thanks for the advice, kid; I'll give it a look."

"Sure," he replied awkwardly, returning his attention to the bickering match promptly ended by a stern word from Bruce.

All attention snapped to him and the woman reclining at his side.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, I called you all here to discuss the obvious elephant in the room. I'd like to introduce Jason Thomas Wayne, who'll be staying with us for a while."

"Well," Dick interrupted, "with _you_." He smirked. "Some of us have actual jobs, Bruce."

"Of course," he replied, unfazed. "As most of you would already have guessed, he isn't exactly from here—meaning he isn't from this time. As of right now, it's been deemed too hazardous to send him back, which means we need to establish him in the here and now." His eyes shifted to Barbara's chair. "Oracle, I'd appreciate it if you could—"

"Fabricate a birth certificate and proof of citizenship, got it."

"With a very specific story to go with it." Bruce glanced at his fiancé, who nodded to him. "Diana and I have been discussing the specifics, which still need some ironing out, but once we have all our facts straight—hopefully by the end of the week—I will be unveiling to the press the newest member of the Wayne family."

"A week?" asked Damian.

Oracle shrugged. "It'll take _half_ that time to put together a fake profile for him."

He arched a black eyebrow. "It took father several _months_ to acknowledge _me_ publicly."

Bruce's eyes darkened. "Lessons learned, Damian." His attention shifted back to Jason. "Do you have any input you'd like to add?"

He just stared at Bruce dumbstruck. "I—what? I barge into your lives from almost two decades into the future, and two hours and one conversation later…that's it? You just let me stay?"

Damian's muttered, "My sentiments exactly," was not as subtle as he thought it was.

"Right or wrong, you're here now," Diana replied, "and you've made it very clear you have no intentions of returning anytime soon. You saved our lives tonight, and you _are_ our family."

Bruce took her hand in a show of solidarity. "It's the _least_ we can do."

Overwhelmed, Jason gulped and nodded, staring at the portrait of Martha and Thomas Wayne on the far wall. Alfred came in while he was lost in thought, catching Bruce and Diana's attention with the logistics of Jason's sleeping arrangements. The others, with the exception of Damian, scooched closer to him to talk.

"I gotta know," said Tim, "how did they pick your name?"

"Thomas is a pretty clear reference to Bruce's dad," Dick chimed in, "but Jason? Like, Jason of the Argonauts?"

Jason smirked. "That was what Mom always said, though…" his head shook slightly, "I never really bought that." His eyes turned to Bruce and Diana and focused on their linked hands. His lips turned in a small frown. "A part of me always figured they named me after the son they lost."

A sobered silence fell over the three around him, Dick especially morose.

Jason smiled and shook his head. "Aaand look at me. Already bringing down the mood."

"You said they lost him," Dick interrupted, tone intent. "Do you mean…they lost him _again_ , or…"

Jason's head shook. "The once was enough. By now you all know he came back, but he came back…different." He smirked and leaned back on his hands. "He mellowed out over the years…" a shrug, "eventually." He chuckled softly. "Though he's still kinda like the weird cousin everyone loves but no one likes to talk about."

That got a small laugh from the trio. Damian had long abandoned conversation for one of the thick books that lined the walls of the study. Jason eyed him intently, gaze shifting over his features as if searching for something.

 _No screams had sounded through the chamber for almost twelve full hours, only low, despairing moans of pain. The slap of a glove against flesh caused a crack that broke the silence._

" _Broken already?" asked the cold voice. "Honestly, I expected more of you. Not sure why. You were never anything but a deranged sadist, a coward who had no power but manipulation."_

 _The moaning victim made no reply, nor had he for weeks._

" _Batman's greatest mistake was ever showing you mercy._ _This city needs a better example."_

 _A sickening crack echoed against the backdrop of dripping water._

"Master Jason!"

Jason tensed and jumped in his seat, looking up at the portly British gentleman who had snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yes, sir?"

He arched a graying eyebrow. "Sir?" Alfred cleared his throat. "Your bedroom has been made up and is ready for you at any time."

"Um, thank you." Jason cleared his throat and stood up slowly.

Dick rose with him. "Leaving already?"

"I uh…yeah." His lips pursed, eyes briefly darting to Damian again. "Not that I don't appreciate the warm welcome, but after everything that's happened tonight, I'm not exactly in the mood to play twenty questions."

Barbara stood with Tim's help. "Understandable. You and I can go over the details of your cover tomorrow morning when you're ready."

He just nodded and waved goodbye to the rest of them, following Alfred upstairs to the residential suites. The butler escorted him to a door made of ebony wood, and his jaw dropped slightly as Alfred turned the knob and opened it. Jason stepped through slowly, huffing a small laugh when he saw the extravagant furnishings, complete with a wall-mounted TV and walk-in wardrobe.

"Just like I remember," he said in a near-whisper. Jason smirked, raising his hands to frame an empty space on the far wall. "Just need to mount an obsidian block right there and I'll be all set."

"Obsidian, sir?"

Jason smiled and shook his head. "Long story." He turned to the older man. "Thank you, Alfred."

He gave Jason a small bow. "I live to serve, Master Jason. The washroom is—"

"A left down the hall, I remember."

"I've set out the requisite toiletries for you to take care of business. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask."

Jason smiled widely and nodded, standing there for a moment before pulling Alfred into a tight hug. Alfred froze up and awkwardly held him back until Jason pulled away.

"I missed you," was all Jason said.

Alfred blinked and hummed briefly. "Well, I won't be going anywhere, sir."

"Right," he replied with a nod and smile. "Good night, Al."

"Good night, young sir."

When the door finally closed, he turned toward the inside of his room, tossing one of the pillows over the other and falling face-first into the stack. He turned over and faced the ceiling with a deep frown and a hard sigh. His mind raced with the countless issues and implications of his continued sojourn in the past, and a long groan rumbled out of him while his palms jammed into his eyes.

"Jace, what the hell did you get yourself into?"

…

"I know what you're going to say."

Bruce arched an eyebrow at Diana's back as she donned a nightgown for bed. "Then I assume you have a counterargument prepared?"

She cast him a frown over her shoulder. "You _know_ he won't back down. We've _both_ seen that determined look in his eye."

He crossed his arms. "You _could've_ tried a little harder to convince him."

Diana put her hands on her hips. "Would that have stopped _you_?"

Bruce blinked and sighed as he shuffled under the covers and stared at the ceiling. "Probably not, no."

She sank in next to him, laying her hand on his chest and head on his shoulder. "Even if we _had_ managed to send him back to his own time, he would've found a way to come back."

"And had he tried to influence events he'd already engaged in, it would've created a temporal paradox that could warp reality itself." Bruce sighed, knowing she was right. A frown creased his lips. "Then there's his reason for coming in the first place."

Diana's lips pursed. "Yes. It sounds unlikely, to be sure, but I detected no deception from him."

"Neither did I. Still, for Cheetah to have gotten to _both_ of us…"

"Makes no sense, I know. Even tonight, we could've matched her ourselves, _easily_. And I doubt you'd have slowed that much, even sixteen years down the line."

"But if he believes it, then he must have his reasons." He fell silent for a while. "Diana, I don't plan on dying anytime soon, but encouraging our future son to alter past events…" he sighed hard, "it goes against all of my instincts."

"His past is our future, Bruce. Besides, we both know time has its loopholes. Perhaps with a little more at his disposal, he might find one than can save us _and_ preserve the timeline—without turning him into an assassin."

"Either way, this is going to be one hell of a chore to explain, to _everyone_."

Diana scooted down to look up at him, her chin planted in his pecs. "You plan on telling the rest of the League the whole story?"

Bruce winced. "Not sure. I can only imagine the lip I'll get from Clark and Barry."

She arched an eyebrow at him, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Since when has the Batman run from an argument?"

He snorted. "Since my wedding was crashed by our own kid."

"Technically, that's Cheetah's fault." She curled her arms around him and cuddled tightly. "And this was just the rehearsal."

A sigh. "I know, but the closer we seem to get to the date, the more obstacles we seem to confront."

"Yeah…" she grinned and looked up at him, "maybe we should elope."

Bruce huffed a laugh. "I would if I didn't know how big of a gasket Alfred would blow."

Diana laughed and squeezed him a bit. "Now that's an argument I _know_ you'd run from."

"Do you blame me?"

"Not a bit," she chuckled. "A lecture from that man could make _Doomsday_ cry." They both fell quiet, sitting in darkened silence for a while before Diana's soft voice broke it. "Everything's going to be okay, Bruce."

She felt him smile against her forehead when he pressed his lips to her skin. "I've only ever believed that since I met you."

A profound warmth spread through her chest as she shuffled up to kiss him gently before returning to using him as a pillow and letting him stroke her hair to sleep.

…

"Date of birth?"

"April 1st."

Oracle stared at Jason over her glasses. "Seriously?"

He grinned and chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "From what Dad told me after the fact, that's exactly what Dick said."

Barbara's head shook as her fingers flew over the keyboard of a hi-tech laptop. She and Jason had been building his fabricated identity for the better part of two hours. According to his cover, Jason Thomas Wayne was the product of an old relationship sixteen years earlier, specifically with Diana Prince. Her public identity was well-known as an enigmatic foreigner who'd lived and traveled all over the world. That one of her residences coincided with Bruce's travel path during his years-long world tour would hardly be considered a stretch.

According to the story, Jason was conceived not long after they met and raised on foreign soil, outside the public eye to spare him the media circus that comes from being a Wayne. Bruce secretly supported him while visiting periodically—adding another explanation for his frequent foreign trips—and Diana raised him full-time. For the last few years, after Diana moved to Gotham, he was attending a boarding school in London to prepare him for his move to the city, which was scheduled to coincide with the wedding. He would be attending the Wayne Enterprises-funded Gotham Academy as soon as possible (much to his annoyance), and presumably be filled in on some of the ins and outs of the family business.

The only question now was whether he would be an active part of the _other_ family business.

Wonder Woman and Batman operating out of the same city while Bruce and Diana were "going steady" was enough of a coincidence. Having a new member of the Bat Family arrive just as Jason was unveiled to the world would only add more suspicion and attract more theories. Thus far, he hadn't expressed an opinion on joining the "team" one way or another. Considering the specificity of his mission, it seemed at first glance that his intention was to limit his footprint on the timeline as much as possible. Although, having him take a public role as a Wayne family heir would certainly seem to contradict that. Still, with all the media attention constantly surrounding Bruce and Diana, not to mention the circus of their wedding, keeping him hidden indefinitely would be all but impossible without sending him somewhere outside Gotham City.

And Bruce had no intention of letting Jason out of his sight.

Jason was at least trying to think of other ways to fulfill his mission. Apart from permanently eliminating the threat of Cheetah, he couldn't see many options that would assure his victory. The only other alternative he could think of off the top of his head was waiting until the very day they were fated to die and intervening. However, that raised a slew of other variables and uncertainties that made him ever more nervous. Most prominently, just how much of a difference he could make if Cheetah had grown crafty and powerful enough to take out the Batman _and_ Wonder Woman…at the same time. That was the primary reason he hadn't designated that night as his destination for the time jump. At any rate, should he have to wait that long, he would have sixteen years to figure it out.

"All right, finishing touches are just about…done." Barbara looked up from her laptop to nod at Jason while handing him the computer. "Give it a last once-over."

He accepted it and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration as he read through the profile she'd constructed. Jason's eyebrows steadily hiked upward the more he read, his fast-moving mind processing the construct at about four times the rate of a normal human thanks to his inherited abilities from _both_ sides of the gene pool. Oracle had been _extremely_ thorough in making him a "real" person on paper and online. Though he'd expected nothing less from this time's premier information broker and hacker. He looked up at her after finishing with a small nod.

"Looks good."

Barbara smiled. "Still got it. I'll give Bruce and Di one last look, then get to setting it up."

"Thanks."

She started to wheel away, but stopped short and looked over her shoulder at him. "Must be weird, living in this time."

He shrugged. "Not really. Gotham doesn't change much in sixteen years. Wayne Manor is still too large and empty, criminals are still superstitious and cowardly, and most people are still stupid."

Barbara arched an eyebrow and shook her head with a huff. "And _there's_ the cynical Wayne paradigm we all know and love."

Another shrug. "Just pointing out the relative facts of the matter. We're the best in the business because we're a cut above the rest. No shame in acknowledging that."

She tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Yet it's just as important to understand your limitations."

Jason leaned back on his hands. "Something that's as-yet undetermined."

"That right?"

He smirked. "I guess we both have a lot to learn about me."

"Hm. I'll be right back."

"'Kay."

Jason leaned back in his seat, grabbing a nearby tablet and scrolling through the news feed of the social media account Oracle had set up for him. In an attempt to be better apprised of the goings on around the world in this time, he had insisted on being connected to national newsfeeds and global trends. Any one of them could provide him with the loophole he needed to save his parents…or lessen his stress a bit. A small smile tugged at his lips as he scrolled past a puppy howling at his owners as if speaking, his finely-tuned ears picking up nearly silent footsteps from behind. He waited for them to get closer before verbally confirming the identity he suspected.

"Morning, Damian."

His steps stopped short for a moment before he kept moving and seated himself in an armchair across from Jason. "How did you know?" he asked with absent curiosity.

Jason blinked as he kept reading his tablet. "Your stride hasn't changed in sixteen years."

"Hm."

Damian was silent a while, but Jason could feel his eyes on him.

"We have history together in your time," Damian stated blankly.

Jason looked up at him with a wry smile. "We grew up together, so yeah." His head tilted. "Or, well, I grew up around you, at least. The age difference kinda prevented us from technically growing up _together_ , if you get my drift."

"I do." Damian's green eyes narrowed at him. "Though I actually meant we have bad history together."

Jason blinked slowly and met his gaze coolly. "We have our disagreements, like all brothers." His eyes narrowed just slightly. "Some more vehement than others."

Damian kept on staring, arms crossed. "You don't trust me."

"Seems to be part of the Wayne family inheritance."

He smirked. "That makes two of us then."

Diana's entry broke up their staring contest as she made her way toward the pair. "You two getting along?"

"Well he hasn't started swinging at me yet," Damian replied.

"And _he_ hasn't tried to strangle me again," Jason countered.

"You mean last night with the Lasso?" The green-eyed teen flashed him a devilish smile. "Trust me, if I'd been trying to strangle you, you'd have known."

He crossed his arms defensively. "If you'd been trying to strangle me, you'd be eating through a straw."

A hard sigh snapped both of their attentions to Diana, who was looking down at them with a scolding air, hands on her hips.

Jason cleared his throat. "Point made."

She shook her head in exasperation. "Do I need to put you two in time out?"

"No," Damian replied dismissively, "I got all the answers I needed." He stopped on his way out to fix Jason with an appraising look. "I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, however brief it may be."

"Much appreciated," Jason replied with about as much enthusiasm as a sloth.

They shared one last look before Damian left the study and the time traveler alone with his mother. Jason felt more than heard her sit on the arm of his chair.

"…I'm used to him being…older," Jason admitted. "Though he's still as prickly as always."

Diana's lips pursed tightly. "Damian is a…challenging person to get to know. He was already Robin when I came to live with Bruce and…did not take the change well. It took him a long time to open up to me, but he did." She nudged his shoulder. "He will to you too. You'll see."

"My mother." Jason smirked and shook his head. "Ever the optimist. I guess some things about _you_ don't change either." He chuckled and looked up at her. "Actually, there's almost nothing that changes about you. Certainly not your appearance."

She smiled. "One of the few perks of immortality." A sad undercurrent laced her smile.

" _There's_ a look I know well."

Diana stared at him blankly.

"It takes you almost thirteen years to come to terms with Dad's mortality."

"But…I do?"

He smiled comfortingly. "Eventually, yes."

She frowned and nodded slowly. "I actually came in here to ask if you wanted to take a look at the school you'll be attending."

He arched an eyebrow. "Like, a tour?"

"Yes." Diana stood. "You game?"

Jason sighed hard and rolled his eyes as he rose from his seat. "Might as well. Better than hanging around with short, dark, and brooding."

Diana laughed. "Be nice."

He smiled and tagged along next to her as they made their way toward the front door, where a limo was waiting. Alfred opened the rear passenger door when they drew close, permitting Jason and Diana to join Bruce in the back. They exchanged a silent nod before Jason turned to face the window and stared out into the empty expanse of trees and clouds as they pulled away.

…

Jason had arrived on a Saturday night. With the speed of their adaptation to his presence, Bruce had managed to procure a tour of Gotham Academy while the campus was mostly empty. At present, the vice principal was ushering them from the classrooms to the open courtyard that served as both entrance and nexus to the rest of campus. The VP, a balding man with soft eyes, was explaining the quality of the Academy's intermural sports and the opportunities that would be available to Jason with his family's "resources." He couldn't possibly have cared less but politely smiled and nodded along.

Their tour guide had no idea who he really was, aside from the fact that his first name was Jason and he was an honored guest of the Waynes. Bruce had made sure he wouldn't ask too many questions to avoid having a leak before they were ready to break the story their way.

They made their way to the gym, which contained an Olympic-sized pool and various other amenities that only Wayne money could pay for—and usually only Wayne money could afford to use. However, Bruce had ensured for years that the school maintained a generous scholarship fund complete with outreach to lower-income sections of the city and underprivileged students who showed potential. It was a few of these who occupied the halls and were sorting out flotsam in their lockers when the VP showed Jason the setups he could use. One group of girls spotted them and looked over curiously before returning to their hushed conversation.

Jason squinted at them when he saw one, a petite older blonde with puffy eyes and running makeup. The other two didn't seem to be antagonizing her, so he figured their topic of conversation must have been the stressor. She caught sight of his perusal and excused herself from her friends to amble down another hallway. Seeing that the VP was in an intent conversation with his parents and that all three of them were distracted, Jason slipped away quiet as a mouse and followed her, finding the girl with her face buried in her locker, hurriedly and aimlessly shuffling around its contents as if in a daze. She was crying openly now, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs his ears picked up when he got closer.

"Hello?"

She jumped and whirled to face him, eyes wide and body tense.

Jason waved at her nonthreateningly. "Hi. Sorry, didn't meant to startle you."

The girl gulped and began wiping at her running makeup. "Sorry."

He shrugged and drew a few steps closer. "For what?"

She glanced over at him and huffed. "No one wants to see a crying girl."

Jason frowned. "Correction, no one likes to see a girl cry." He smiled a bit and laid on a pinch of the old Wayne charm. "Especially not the pretty ones."

She gave him a disbelieving "really?" look, her streaked makeup forgotten in her incredulity. "Are you serious?"

He grinned. "Got you to stop crying, didn't it?"

The girl huffed and rolled her eyes, cracking a small smile. "I'm Stephanie." She held out her hand. "Stephanie Brown."

His eyes widened slightly before he took it firmly, applying gentle pressure. "Jason."

She arched a blonde eyebrow. "Jason…"

"Prince," he added, thinking quickly.

Stephanie nodded and shook his hand. "Quite a grip you got there."

"I like to keep in shape. Prevents you from becoming a target."

She snorted. "You sound like you have some experience."

Jason shrugged. "Maybe a pinch. You?"

Stephanie turned back to her locker and began sorting out the mess she'd made. "You could say that."

He jerked a thumb at the hallway she'd just left. "Not from those two, I hope."

She blinked and looked over her shoulder at him. "Ash and Gail? Hell no. They're the nicest rich kids I know."

Jason chuckled. His smile slowly turned to a frown. "Then why were you so upset?" He paused for a moment, seeing her tense. "If you don't mind me asking."

Steph shot him a look, glancing down sheepishly. "Look, I appreciate the pick-me-up, but I'm already in a relationship…" she chewed her lower lip, "kind of."

He held his hands up and barely held back a smirk. "I understand completely. That's about the last thing on my mind right now. I just—"

"Hate to see pretty girls cry?"

Jason smiled. "Pretty much."

She ran a hand through her hair in thought before sighing hard. "It's…this one friend I have, her name's Lindsey. I'm worried about her. She hasn't shown up at school in days."

He frowned. "By your tone, I'm guessing that's unlike her."

"Very. She's not exactly a straight-A student, but she works her ass off, pardon my French."

"You're excused. Any idea where she might be?"

Steph shook her head. "None. Her parents don't know either—well, foster parents, that is."

His brows furrowed. "She's an orphan?"

Another head shake. "Not exactly. Her birth parents…" a sigh, "ugh, why am I even talking to you about this?"

"Because I'm good with words and I might be able to help."

She crossed her arms. "You? Help how?"

Jason let a smirk play over his lips. "Let's just say if I don't make it to the top of that list of nicest rich kids you know, I'll definitely be top five when we're done." His expression sharpened. "I have resources, and scavenger hunts were always my strong suit."

Her lips pursed tightly as she thought about it, eventually opening her mouth to reply when a feminine voice from behind him cut her off.

"Jason!"

He whirled around to face his approaching parents. He gave them and the VP a nod. "'Sup?"

"You left without a word," Bruce pointed out, his eyes drifting to Stephanie with the same look of recognition Jason had suppressed a minute earlier. "And made a new friend."

When Jason turned back to her, she was staring at him slack-jawed and looking between him and his mother. "Prince. As in _that_ Prince."

Jason smiled wryly. "You know my mother?"

Stephanie glanced rapidly between him and Bruce, who was giving her the _deadest_ stare. "Well…I don't think I could forget Bruce Wayne's fiancé. Her face has been all over the news for _months_."

Diana smiled at her warmly. "Always happy to meet an admirer."

Stephanie looked back at Jason, who was vainly trying to suppress a gigantic teasing grin. It was at this point that Bruce took pity on her and excused himself and the VP to finally allow them to speak freely.

"You—you're—" Stephanie sputtered.

"I'm sorry," Jason chuckled. "The opportunity to mess with you was too good to pass up."

Diana gave him a mildly scolding look before returning her attention to Stephanie. "Ms. Brown. Good to see you again."

She frowned, looking between the two in confusion. "How is it I never knew you had a kid?" she finally asked Diana.

Diana sighed hard. " _That_ is a long, complicated story."

"And technically," Jason interrupted, " _they_ had a kid."

Steph's visible confusion practically tripled.

"Jason," Diana scolded, "stop tormenting the poor girl."

" _What_?" he whined innocently.

Diana sighed hard. "Suffice to say, you'll be hearing a great many things in the media that will come as a shock in the next few days."

"And I'm guessing it won't be the whole story?" she asked.

"I'd be happy to explain it if you can find the time to visit the manor, but it isn't something to be discussed out in the open like this. Or over the phone."

Stephanie nodded. "I understand. Is Tim back yet?"

"He came for the rehearsal dinner last night."

"Yeah, I _heard_ that was a bust."

Jason held up a hand. "I take partial responsibility for that."

Stephanie eyed him curiously. "Anyway, I'll be there for the main event. Just with graduation coming up, senior year stress has been—"

Diana smiled and held up a hand. "Say no more. I think Tim will be all right as long as you make it."

"Seeing the big scary boss get married?" She smirked. "Oh, I wouldn't miss _that_ for the world."

"Glad to hear it." Diana placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. "We should get going."

Jason hummed absently as they turned to leave Stephanie at her locker but looked over his shoulder with a frown and met her eyes. A small nod exchanged between them served as a silent promise to pick up their conversation again as soon as they got the chance.

"Did you know she would be here?"

Jason blinked and looked up at his mother at the question. "Who, Stephanie?"

"Mhm."

His head shook. "Didn't even recognize her at first. She looks…different in my time. A little less blonde…and a few more stretch marks."

Diana shot him a look.

Jason chuckled. "Suffice to say she and Tim have a _very_ fruitful future ahead of them."

…

Jason spent the last bright hours of the day catching up on what he'd be studying come Monday. He was both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised to find it was old material he could do in his sleep. Unpleasantly due to the fact that it would leave him with hours and hours of free time at school and nothing to do with it; pleasantly due to the fact that the free time he did have at home could be put to better use finding a way to fulfill his mission. Still, the more he thought about school, the more his mind kept drifting back to Stephanie and the friend she mentioned. Frowning hard, he closed down his tablet and stared at the ceiling of his room as he tried to quiet his mind.

 _I'm not here to sightsee, or to save the world. Mom and Dad are all that matters; everything else is just background noise._

But was it? The more he tried not to think, the more memories came rushing back to him.

…

 _"Why do you patrol every night?"_

 _"Because trouble could strike at any time and waiting for it to happen puts more lives at risk."_

 _"But…isn't that what the police are for? Dami says the Batman should focus on the threats they aren't equipped to handle."_

 _"…your brother is entitled to his opinion, but I've learned over the years that looking solely at the 'big picture' is a mistake in the long run. Overlook the small things, the small_ people _, and you'll miss something important. Something that could be devastating later down the line. But beyond that,_ my _father taught me that_ everyone _is important to someone. Even the smallest kindness you do for a stranger could change their entire life. A man you save from a mugger in a back alley today could become a leader in social change tomorrow. Or a woman you pull out of a fire could develop the cure for a dreaded disease._

 _"Weighty cause and effect aren't limited to the threats that parade around in costumes. And even if the person you help doesn't go on to do something world-changing, their life still matters. Everyone matters."_

 _"You can't save everyone, Dad."_

 _A hard sigh. "I know, Jason. But when it comes to being the Batman, failure is_ never _an excuse not to try."_

…

Jason sighed hard as his eyes slipped shut, stinging with unshed tears.

 _Even after the fact, you're still lecturing me. Damn you, Dad._

Another hard sigh passed his lips before he rolled over in bed and picked up his new phone. His fingers flew over the screen as he made a call, waiting for a confused voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Stephanie, hi."

"Jason? How did you get this number?"

"…"

"…right. Dumb question. Why the call?"

Jason's lips pursed tightly as he plugged in headphones while he activated his tablet and opened a notepad. "I want you to tell me everything you know about Lindsey."

* * *

AN: This initial chapter was a little slow, but I'm trying to keep this moving as smoothly as I can. A lot of characters and context to establish before things really pick up. I kept ambling about, trying to figure out a good format for the day-to-day of the story and I think I hit on gold format-wise: case files. Investigations will serve as the backdrop for almost every story arc, classic Batman style. After all, he was trained by the best. Not much else to say on this chapter, so I'll let it speak for itself.

Drake out.


	3. Case File 1: Lindsey Markan, Part I

A well-populated note page on Jason's tablet scrolled by in a whirl as he tabbed through its contents line by line.

 _Lindsey Markan, age 17, born and raised in Gotham City. Lived with her parents Colleen and George in Park Row until an altercation between them started a fire. That fire burnt down most of their tenement building, and when Social Services discovered one of them had been hopped up on heroin during the incident, they were deemed unfit parents. Lindsey was remanded to state custody and placed in a foster home with Dierdre and Bryce Teller, two upper-class Gotham citizens. She was enrolled in Gotham Academy a week after moving in with them._

Jason scrolled down further, running across her number and Stephanie's last account of seeing her the previous Friday after school let out. Things had been business as usual until she got a mysterious text on her phone. Ashley, one of her and Stephanie's friends, had asked her about it but she'd brushed her off. And then proceeded to tell them that she wouldn't be taking the bus home as usual but find her own ride home. That was the last anyone saw of or heard from her. Apart from that text, Stephanie hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with her in the days prior; but given that she'd retired from being Batgirl months previous, he could chalk that up to her powers of perception being a little rusty. Even _she_ admitted that fact.

Lindsey's foster parents had already filed a missing persons report, but had yet to hear back from the police, or so Stephanie had said. Jason made a mental note to visit them after school.

"Ahem, Mr. Prince, care to join the rest of class?"

Jason blinked and looked up at the teacher, a severe-looking woman with diamond-shaped glasses. "Ma'am?"

"You do know electronic devices are only for use on an as-needed basis, yes?"

He held up the tablet with a small shrug. "Notes," he stated innocently.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. "So says you and everyone else." She tapped her desk several times with a pen.

Jason barely restrained an eye-roll as he marched to the front of the class and deposited it on one of her folders. "Ever think maybe they're _all_ using it for notes?"

"Please. You were _staring_ , not writing."

He sighed and returned to his seat, staring out the window with his head leaning on his palm. An occasional glance at the whiteboard and projector screen kept him apprised of the class's current topic, but it was all familiar content, so he quickly lost interest. He caught sight of Damian's slight smirk from across the classroom and glared at him a bit. Of _course_ he would return to a time where they were almost the same age and would be placed in the same classes. Of course. Damian couldn't have been scribbling notes on the class in that notebook, that much he knew. In the future, he'd always made a point of flaunting how far along his education was early in life.

Jason reluctantly made another mental note to ask him how he coped with the boredom.

It was with a massive sigh of relief that Jason gathered up his things in preparation to move onto his next class. On his way out, he made for the teacher's desk and cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up at him through her glasses, a questioning eyebrow raised.

He held out a hand. "My tablet."

She leaned back in her seat with a firm look after setting it in a drawer on her desk. "You can collect it from the principal's office at the end of the day, Mr. Prince."

Jason kept his face carefully neutral, fighting against a profound sense of annoyance as she turned her eyes back to her computer and absently began to push the drawer closed. A quick glance around revealed no one watching him, and a small step to the side put him within arm's reach of the drawer. A touch of Amazonian superspeed and a Bat's light fingers were more than enough to allow him to pilfer his tablet before the drawer shut completely and escape the distracted teacher undetected.

…

Jason had, thankfully, managed to escape scrutiny from the majority of his peers thanks to a last-minute appeal on his part that he be enrolled as Jason Prince rather than Jason Wayne. Bruce and Diana agreed completely, amending their original plan to keep him as anonymous as possible by sticking with the Prince surname until after the wedding so as to coincide his name change with his mother's. Only the principal, vice principal, and the rest of the Wayne family knew the truth. For now.

Lunch had passed entirely too quickly, thrusting him into another slew of boring classes he'd already passed in the future. If he'd known there would be _this_ much repetition, he'd have asked to be homeschooled. Of course, they would've said no thanks to their insistence that he socialize with others his age, but it would've been worth a try. It still might. Though, if he did manage to convince them, Damian would no doubt try the same thing and succeed, and then he'd be stuck in the manor with him twenty-four seven _without_ the buffer of civilians to keep them from going at it.

On second thought…maybe not.

He'd tried to reconnect with Stephanie at lunch to find out if there was anything she'd remembered since their last conversation the night before, but she hadn't been in the main dining hall and they didn't have a single class together thanks to her being a senior. He'd talk to her after school let out. The final class of the day was a computer lab, an introductory class to computer programming, and as luck would have it, he was placed in a seat near the back of the classroom. A minute or so into class and he'd hacked the school's network, established a VPN that masked his activity, and was trying to break into GCPD's case files to see if any progress had been made on the missing persons report.

Unfortunately, the school computer didn't have the processing power to get the job done and started smoking not long after he began his attempt. He quickly shut it down and backed away, coughing and waving at the air dramatically.

"I think mine is…defective," he coughed when the teacher and the rest of the class stared at him.

Thankfully, Damian wasn't there to mock him with his eyes. He'd just about die of embarrassment.

"You can share one with Ms. Jerome," said the teacher, waving at a short brunette with small glasses.

He recognized her from Stephanie's clique after a second or two and slid his chair over next to her. As the lesson resumed, he tuned the teacher's voice out and focused on his new lab partner.

Jason leaned over and lowered his voice. "You're Gail, right? Gail Jerome?"

She glanced at him and nodded.

He smiled and offered his hand. "Jason."

She remained silent but smiled and shook it, opting to focus on class.

Jason kept his silence as well, for a time, but when the teacher's back was turned, he leaned in to whisper again. "You know Lindsey, right?"

Gail visibly tensed up.

He arched an eyebrow. _I'll take that as a yes._

She pursed her lips and met his eyes. "What about her?"

"I'm a friend of Stephanie; she told me Lindsey went missing. Know anything about that?"

Her head shook with a frown. "Just up and vanished. I don't know why."

"Is she the kind of person who'd run away?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of new here, so…I didn't know her long."

"Gotcha. You a freshman?"

Her head shook. "Sophomore. I'm a transfer from Keystone."

"Gotcha. Wow, that's a _long_ move."

Gail cracked a small smile. "My parents needed a change of scenery."

"And you?"

She shrugged. "Gotham has its ups and downs, I guess. Left behind a few good friends, but I made new ones here, so…I guess it all turned out okay."

Jason blinked and turned to face the teacher with a façade of attentiveness. "I recently moved, pretty far in fact. Can't really say I miss anything from there though."

"You didn't leave anyone behind?"

His eyes and tone darkened. "No one I still cared about."

She fell silent at his side and he said nothing more the rest of class.

…

As soon as the school bell rang, Jason made his way to his locker and grabbed a change of clothes, quickly shifting out of his school uniform and into a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a T-shirt that gave him plenty of mobility. Over that went a black leather jacket with a high collar that came up to his jawline, almost like armor. He kept it zipped open due to the relatively warm fall weather and made his way to the exit, where Alfred was waiting in the limo for him and Damian to come out.

"About time," said the brat, nodding toward the car. "You have to freshen up your makeup?"

" _Some_ of us don't roll out of bed looking perfect," Jason countered.

Damian smirked and got in first, followed by a texting Jason.

[I'm going to talk to Lindsey's parents. Want to come?]

A few moments passed before Stephanie sent a reply. [Can't. Promised Oracle I'd keep out of trouble.]

Jason frowned. [What makes you think she's in trouble?]

[Because Lindsey isn't the kind of person to vanish without a word. Something HAPPENED to her, I'm sure of it.]

[All the more reason to tag along.]

[* _Stephanie is typing_ …*]

"Have a new girlfriend already?"

Jason looked up from his phone to see Damian grinning at him teasingly. He countered with a deadpan glare. "Not that it's any of your business, but no. And I'm not in the market for one either."

"Then who are you texting so intently?"

He looked back down at the screen, eyes scanning over Steph's reply.

[Look, I respect what you're trying to do, but I've had too many brushes with death to get back in now. I know myself. If I stick a finger into this pool, I'll get sucked in completely. I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to figure this out on your own.]

Jason sighed hard. [I understand.] He looked up again, realizing Damian was still waiting for an answer. "Made a new friend. You should try it sometime."

Dami snorted and crossed his arms, staring out the window.

Alfred glanced at them through the divider. "I trust your first day went well, Master Jason?"

"Well enough," he replied. "At least now I know what to expect."

The rest of the trip passed in silence.

…

"How was your first day?"

"Enlighteningly boring," Jason replied, giving his parents a longsuffering look. "I think my classes are just a _little_ behind where I am at the moment."

Bruce frowned. "By how much?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Give or take…five years?"

They both stared at him.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I'll talk to the principal, see about getting you moved to advanced courses."

"You might have to outsource it to Gotham University," said Jason before popping half a sandwich into his mouth.

"Oh?" Diana asked. "You considering a major already?"

He nodded and gulped. "Cultural studies. I already know plenty about criminal pathology and crime scene analysis. Bridging the cultural gaps could give me valuable insight into the nuances of the foreign criminal element."

Jason didn't miss the concerned look exchanged between his parents.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you have that kind of laser focus," said Bruce. "At your age, I certainly did."

Jason shrugged. "Well there you go."

"You'll still have to attend the Academy, but I'll make sure you're properly placed."

He stared at Bruce. "Seriously?"

"Being around peers your age is—"

"So unbelievably _boring_. And I guarantee Damian thinks so too."

"That may be the case, but learning to socialize and identify with a variety of demographics is a necessary skill to have if you want to do this work. Learn to speak and operate on their level, and you'll gain their trust twice as easily when you need it."

Jason sighed hard. "Which I'm guessing is the only reason Damian doesn't ditch every day."

"Probably," Bruce admitted with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He polished off the last of his sandwich and made for the stairs with his backpack. "I'm gonna get a jump on today's homework. Behind or no, I'm still stuck with it until we can get this course load sorted out."

"Then we'll leave you to it," said Diana. "Call if you need us."

Jason gave them a nod before mounting the steps two at a time and rushing to his room. His window on the second floor of the manor gave him a perfect view of the side lawn—and an easy exit when he slid it open and flew straight upward out of view of the perimeter cameras. He made sure not to go supersonic until he was out of earshot of the manor.

…

Finding Lindsey's foster parents turned out easier than expected. The GCPD database was heavily encrypted. Gotham Academy's? Not so much. A brief mid-flight hack was enough to give him access to their parent roster, and with it the address of the Tellers, an uptown duplex with a well-polished exterior. He rang their bell and waited, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket until he heard the click of an opening door.

A middle-aged woman with auburn hair and a worried visage stared down at him. "Yes, who are you?"

Jason gave his best winning smile and held out his hand. "Jason Prince, hi. I'm uh…one of Lindsey's friends."

Mrs. Teller blinked and shook his hand. "Oh. Hello."

"May I come in?"

"Please," she replied, stepping aside and closing the door behind him.

Jason took a long look around as she led him to their living room. The Tellers' dwelling was a richly decorated, well-ordered apartment that spoke of meticulous nature and an eye for aesthetics.

"Who did the interior decorating here?" he asked.

She smiled and offered him a seat on the couch. "My husband Bryce. He's an architect for Stagg Industries. Always had an eye for pretty things." She smiled wider. "He told me that's what drew him to me the first time we met."

Jason grinned and shrugged. "As pick-up lines go, that isn't the _worst_ I've heard."

Dierdre laughed. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water, tea?"

"Uh, no thanks." His expression sharpened. "I actually came to talk about Lindsey."

Her face immediately fell. "Oh."

"What can you tell me about her disappearance?"

She threw her hands up and huffed. "Nothing. She just…didn't come home on Friday. No calls, no texts, not a word from her. _Nothing_ ," she repeated.

"And that's not like her."

Her head shook. "Not at all. She _always_ lets us know where she's going. Always tells us when she's heading home or to her job or to a friend's." She cracked a small smile. "She never wanted us to worry."

"Did you talk to the police?"

"Talk to the police about what?" came a new voice.

Jason and Dierdre turned toward the new arrival, a taller man with platinum blonde hair. Jason stood up and held out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Jason Prince. I go to school with Lindsey."

Bryce's countenance changed in much the same way as his wife's. "Oh. Nice to meet you."

Jason sat back down as Bryce did the same with his wife and took her hand.

Jason waved at Dierdre. "I was just asking your wife if you called the police when she didn't come home."

"Of _course_ we called the police," Bryce answered, tone agitated. "We went through the whole process, gave them everything we knew about her. But…" he stopped short, something unpleasant and akin to anger twitching at his features, "their attitude changed when we told them about her history."

Jason blinked. "You mean with her parents?"

They both nodded.

Dierdre spoke up first. "According to what the cops found, they were addicts, one on heroin, the other gambling. As soon as they found out where and who she came from…" her head shook, features pinched, "it was like they'd already given up."

Bryce leaned forward in his seat. "She isn't _like_ that. Lindsey works hard, every single day, even took a part-time job to pay for school expenses. She wanted _out_ of the life she had in Park Row. There's no _way_ she'd go back."

Jason frowned in thought. "Do you think she'd have gone back to visit her parents? At least to check up on them?"

They exchanged a glance.

"I…maybe?" replied Dierdre.

"If she did, she should've _told_ us," Bryce insisted.

"Maybe your reaction now is why she didn't," Jason posited. "Something tells me you would've tried to stop her."

"Of _course_ we would've tried to stop her. That whole area is bad news, nowhere for a promising young lady to spend her time. Even if it is for her parents." Bryce frowned. "If she wanted to see them so badly, we would've found a way. We _never_ would've kept them apart on purpose; she _knows_ that."

Jason's lips pursed as he looked around the room, catching sight of a picture frame with the married couple and a pretty redhead between them. He gingerly picked it up and glanced at the Tellers. "Is this her?"

Dierdre smiled and nodded. "She's such a sweet kid. Bright, talented, generous." Her smile faltered. "Maybe _too_ generous."

Jason glanced at her. "How so?"

Bryce spoke up. "She's always going out of her way to help her friends. With school, with money, work…she spreads herself so thin all the time. Barely takes a moment for herself." His eyes darkened. "I wonder…I wonder if she was trying to help her parents. If she went back there, and something happened—" He stopped and choked a bit, wiping at his eyes. "Oh _God_ I hope not."

Jason hummed and took all this down on his tablet. "Is there anything else you can tell me about her? Like…where she worked? What she did after school?"

"Um," Dierdre thought for a moment, "she was a clerk at a few places near here, grocery stores mostly. All part-time. Even applied to work at Big Belly Burger."

"Apparently she needed to pay for a lot of extra supplies for school," Bryce added, "because about two months back she hit the job search hard."

"We _told_ her we'd cover the cost, but she insisted on paying her own way." She smiled sadly. "Lindsey always hated to be a burden on others, even when we told her she wasn't."

Jason's lips pursed. "Do you know how much she made?"

Their heads shook.

"No," Bryce replied, "but we opened an account for her to keep track of it all." His eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you asking us all this?"

His blue eyes hardened. "Because I'm going to find her."

They exchanged an incredulous look. "How? The _police_ couldn't find her."

"The police never _tried_ , and I have a lot more in my repertoire of resources than my charm and good looks. My family has access to people who look into matters like this. With any luck, we'll be able to sort this out in no time."

They stood up as Jason made to leave.

"You mean it?" Dierdre asked.

Jason smiled and nodded. "Absolutely."

Bryce shook his head in disbelief. "Why?"

He blinked and stared at them uncomprehendingly. "I told you. She's a friend. That's what friends do."

Bryce stuck out his hand and shook Jason's. "Thank you. Lindsey's a good kid. She doesn't deserve this nonsense."

"Then I'll do what I can to bring her home. Count on it."

He gave them one last parting wave before finding a secluded alley and taking off back toward the manor.

…

Despite his fingerprints and DNA not being in the system, for Jason, getting into the Batcave was as easy as implementing the manual overrides he'd been taught as a kid. Batman's codes hadn't changed in almost two decades, a fact he was _very_ thankful for when he found the place empty and the Batcomputer unattended. He quickly uploaded all his research to date and set about running down the last few leads he'd left unpursued for lack of resources. Specifically, hacking into the GCPD database and gaining access to Lindsey's bank records. What he found was more than a little jarring.

As suspected, the GCPD hadn't given Lindsey's case more than a passing glance, shelving it after less than a day. Apparently, the detectives assigned to find her had a cynical opinion of Gotham's lower class. Filing that away under things that pissed him off, Jason moved onto her parents' record. Multiple counts of narcotic abuse and a few visits to the hospital for overdoses littered the father's record. The mother had an extensive record of illegal gambling in a number of places that had been busted in raids over the years, but had been let go in favor of the bigger fishes. Both of them had a litany of larceny charges, presumably to support their addictions.

Lindsey, on the other hand, had _no_ record, not even a spot in juvie. It was almost unbelievable how squeaky clean she was. Her bank statements told a slightly more interesting story. Over the past two months, she had been working her _tail_ off, because by the day just before her disappearance, she'd amassed a total of almost fifteen thousand dollars. The day of, there were several massive cash withdrawals totaling around ten thousand. Now, Jason didn't know exactly what went into "school expenses" at Gotham Academy thanks to his father handling all the details, but he sincerely doubted she needed ten grand to pay for books.

In trying to find background on big purchases she might've wanted to make, he backtracked through the search history and phone records at her foster home and discovered a call placed to the social worker assigned to her case dated about two months back—right before she'd gone bananas on the job hunt. He'd called the Tellers after the fact and asked them about it, but they'd known nothing about the call and figured Lindsey must've been the one to make it.

He dialed the woman's number to check it himself and altered his phone to make his voice sound deeper. "Excuse me, Ms. Redding?"

"Speaking," answered a tired voice.

"Hi, this is Detective Tenloss with GCPD. I understand you're Lindsey Markan's case worker?"

Her voice sharpened. "Y-Yes, is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. Her foster parents filed a missing person report a couple days ago, and we haven't been able to find her since."

"Oh…damn it, not Lindsey. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"I was hoping you might be able to help me with that. Our records indicate she placed a call to you about two months ago. Do you remember what that conversation entailed?"

"Um…two months…oh yes, I remember. She called me to ask about state-funded rehab programs, how much it would cost to check in and whatnot."

Jason frowned. "Did she have any history with addiction?"

"No, and that's what confused me."

"Could she have been supporting a drug habit without anyone noticing?"

"Not likely. I've known her foster parents for years, and we've both seen that happen before. Lindsey was clean. Her parents, on the other hand…"

"Right," he interrupted. "Is there anything else you two discussed?"

"Not really. She pretty much hung up on me once I gave her the information, which is unlike her, being so abrupt."

"Hm. Well, thank you ma'am. You've been very helpful."

"Can you really find Lindsey?"

"I'm gonna do everything I can. If you think of anything else, don't hesitate to call us."

"Will do. Please bring her home. She's such a sweet girl."

"I'll do my best, ma'am. Thank you for your time."

"Goodbye."

After he hung up, he studied Lindsey's work habits and bank statements, finding very little in the way of withdrawals until the big lump sum last Friday. If only he could see the text that she'd received that day, he might have been able to put the whole picture together, but she kept everything on her Cloud drive, e-mails and all. As an outdated system in 2033, he wasn't familiar with its workings and hacking it was proving to be a difficult task.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The sudden interruption made Jason tense and whirl around in his seat to see Damian staring at him expectantly.

"Research," he replied simply.

"On?" Damian asked as he drew closer.

"None of your business."

He crossed his arms. "It is if you're breaking into the cave and misappropriating father's resources."

Jason's lips pursed as he considered whether or not to tell him before caving. "There's a missing girl at school. I'm trying to find her."

Damian blinked twice and smirked. "Is that what you were doing on your tablet?"

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen. "It's what I've been doing all _day_."

"And why, pray tell, are you so insistent on this? I thought your objective was a bit larger scale. Besides, I don't think father and Prince will be happy when they find out you're shirking your studies to engage in an unsanctioned investigation."

Jason gave him a deadpan look. "Like that would stop _you_."

He shrugged in acquiescence.

"Besides, they stuck me in a school filled with nothing but rich entitled mooks and courses half a decade behind to keep me busy. I'm bored. What do they _expect_ me to do?"

Damian smirked conspiratorially. " _Now_ we understand each other." He pulled up a seat next to him and nodded at the screen. "What's the case?"

Jason glanced at him, surprised at his sudden—and genuine—interest. "Lindsey Markan, seventeen, former resident of Park Row and current foster child of the Teller family. Spotless record, good grades, and overall a bright future. Vanished last Friday from school after getting a mysterious text. Hasn't been heard from since."

"Did you ping her phone?"

"That's the first thing I tried when I got down here. It's either off or broken."

"Does she have any enemies at school? Any number of those 'rich entitled mooks' might have the means of exacting revenge if they were holding a grudge."

Jason's head shook. "From all accounts, she's the kind of person who would take off her own arm if it meant helping someone. I doubt she'd be the one to provoke a conflict of any sort."

Damian leaned back on his laced fingers, his eyes scanning over Jason's research. "That leaves the Park Row angle. Her parents, the addicts—think they could've pulled her into their habits?"

His lips pursed tightly. "It's a distant possibility. She was trying her hardest to stay out of that world, but…" he glanced at Damian, "family has a way of messing you up."

Damian's expression darkened. "No one knows that better than me." His eyes shifted to the ongoing hack and head tilted. "What's this?"

Jason frowned and shook his head. "I've been trying to hack into her Cloud server to get a look at her messages. Try and find out what that text was that lured her away. Maybe figure out where that ten grand went. Or at least where she did."

He cast Jason a blank look. "Seriously? And you're still at it?"

Jason blushed a bit and crossed his arms defensively. "It's an old system and the code is constructed weirdly."

Damian rolled his eyes and gently pushed Jason's chair aside. "Give me that." Less than a minute with the keyboard was enough for him to get in. " _Voila_ ," he said with a smug smirk.

Jason threw him an annoyed look before wheeling back in to get a closer look at Lindsey's emails and texts. His eyebrows knitted when she ran across a _very_ long string of correspondence between her and someone with the screen name "C-Lion."

"This is weird," said Jason. "Half the stuff they send to each other doesn't even make sense."

Damian hit a few keys and brought up a separate algorithm. "Only if you don't know what you're looking for. They're speaking in a gang code native to Park Row."

He looked to Damian, silently asking for an explanation.

Damian nodded at the screen. "C-Lion is the alias of a notorious drug dealer in Park Row working for Black Mask. Ruthless and ambitious. He deals mostly in heroin, but occasionally branches out into localized human trafficking and prostitution."

"Why would she be in contact with someone like that?"

He arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't it obvious? The money, her roots in the area? Plus the numeric code they sent back and forth."

Jason stared at him. "You think she was buying drugs from him."

A shrug. "It's the most obvious explanation."

"Yet completely disparate from her character."

"According to the people around her. But we both know very well how easily you can fool most people into believing you're someone you're not."

Jason frowned. "She didn't have the _time_ to support a drug habit, and showed no signs of heroin use."

"In the quantities she could've gotten for that kind of money, I doubt she would've been _using_."

"Still didn't have the time or transportation to deal, especially not in the uptown area where she was living." Jason's head shook slowly. "There _has_ to be another reason she contacted this guy." He blinked a couple times. "Wait. Her _father_ is a heroin addict. Maybe C-Lion is his dealer and she was trying to get a location out of him."

"Perhaps," Damian conceded, "but to what end? Ten thousand dollars isn't enough to move her parents out of Park Row."

"But it _is_ enough to get them into a state rehab program for a few weeks at least." Jason typed for a few moments. "She'd been researching them for weeks before starting to work. Lindsey was trying to get out of the life she'd been damned to in Park Row. Maybe she wanted to do that for her parents too."

"Perhaps, but without her parents already with her, she wouldn't have needed to pay for anything yet. And if she was smart enough to figure out how to contact C-Lion, something tells me she was smart enough not to carry that much cash into Park Row."

Jason cursed under his breath. "We're _missing_ something." After a few moments of contemplation, he glanced at Damian only to find the slightest _twitch_ of a knowing smirk on his face. "What?"

Damian looked at him innocently.

Jason knew better and fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. "What do you know that I don't?"

He smirked. "Many, many things. But in this particular case?" He reached over and brought up an open case file from GCPD's vice division. "I know that Black Mask has been using addicts and debtors as drug mules to pay off said debt or feed their habit as the case may be."

"You think Lindsey's parents are drug mules…and that C-Lion is their handler."

Damian smiled and pointed at him with both hands. "Bingo."

Jason slowly turned back to the text exchange between Lindsey and C-Lion. "Which means…Lindsey wasn't bargaining for a drug deal…" his eyes widened, "she was haggling for her parents' freedom."

Damian yawned.

He shot Dami a glare. "How long did you know and wait to tell me?"

He smirked and leaned back on his hands. "You were on a roll. I didn't want to spoil your enthusiasm."

Jason rolled his eyes and kicked Damian's chair so it spun around several times. "Going off that assumption, everything starts to make more sense." His fingers flew over the keyboard, sorting all the evidence chronologically. "Lindsey starts feeling homesick and missing her parents, but she knows she could get sucked into their bad habits if she goes back to them, so she contacts her social worker and starts looking into the cost of getting them into rehab." He forwards through the weeks of job searching and part-time jobs. "She works around the clock to pay for their recovery, and once she saves the requisite amount, tries to get in contact with them." He magnified the e-mail and text exchanges between Lindsey and C-Lion, dating back almost a month. "Only when she did, she found their handler instead.

"He didn't want to lose two of his workers, so he gave her an offer to buy their freedom. She goes back to work with a vengeance and caps out at fifteen grand before resuming their conversation. A haggling match ensues over the cost of her parents' release, and they eventually settle on ten grand as a figure." He tabbed over to the final text, received on the day of her disappearance. "I'm no expert in gang code, but considering the context, I'm willing to guess that's an address somewhere in Park Row."

Damian started a slow clap, though Jason couldn't tell if it was mocking or not. "Well done," he said. "A little slow, but nobody's perfect." A smirk. "Except me."

Jason frowned. "This brings up a whole new problem. That message was sent on Friday for a time that same day. If Lindsey hasn't shown back up with her parents, then the deal went south."

Damian's lips pursed grimly. "Which means we have to consider the possibility she may already be dead."

Jason fell silent for a while. "Either way, I need to get to that meeting site."

"Ahem, you mean _we_ need to get to that site."

"…you're tagging along? Why?"

" _Someone_ needs to babysit you."

Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head as he closed down the research file. "You suiting up?"

"In the middle of the day? Where's your sense of subtlety?"

"Probably back with my other suit."

"…"

"Sixteen years in the future, in case you didn't get—"

"I _got_ it."

"Well I'm not going out there naked."

Damian snorted and busied himself with appropriating undercover gear. "I should _hope_ not."

Jason threw him a deadpan look. "I mean I'm not going out without some kind of protection."

Damian turned his head and nodded toward one section of the cave. "Father keeps concealable vests in that cabinet."

"Thanks."

Jason pulled one out that looked to be about his size and donned it underneath his shirt, pulling his hooded leather jacket over it. As an afterthought, he found the locker that contained his suit and pulled something off its collar: a detachable ring that went most of the way around his neck and adhered to his skin. A touch of a button on its side sent his suit's cowl expanding over most of his face, and his jacket hood added another layer of concealment.

"Nifty trick," said Damian.

Jason shrugged. "You should know. You designed it."

"Huh." Damian strode over to a gray motorcycle, his own identity concealed with a circuitry-inlaid domino mask. He mounted the bike and donned a nondescript helmet before looking over his shoulder at Jason. "You coming?"

Jason arched his eyebrows and started floating to indicate his method of transportation. Shaking his head, Damian revved the bike and opened the main exit tunnel, both Waynes screeching out of the Batcave unaware that they were being watched.

…

"He's a natural."

Diana slowly nodded in agreement. "He is most _definitely_ your son. Sharp, intuitive, and absolutely reckless."

Bruce gave her a sideways look.

She smiled sweetly. "I love you too."

He turned back to the camera feed, switching to the one on Robin's bike and ensuring they were both still in one piece.

Diana's smile faded to a frown. "Are you sure about this? Letting them go off alone—"

"Jason went toe-to-toe with Cheetah and survived and he has Damian with him. They'll be fine."

"I just feel like…"

"I know," he sighed. "No one wants to be there with them more than me, but I learned my lesson in helicopter parenting when Dick moved out. We need to give them room to grow—and this allows us the perfect opportunity to see what our newest recruit can do."

"Shall I set out popcorn then, sir?"

Bruce deadpanned at Alfred's sarcastic tone.

…

The meeting point of Lindsey and C-Lion turned out to be an abandoned warehouse in Park Row with stuffing coming out of its walls and mildew lining the floors and ceiling. It was the very definition of creepily isolated. Empty, broken pallets littered the space, along with broken beer bottles and various other flotsam.

"Looks like this place hasn't been touched in _months_ ," said Jason.

"Maybe not." Damian pointed at a section of disturbed dust along one of the standpipes coming up from the basement.

Jason drew closer to it and bent down, tapping a control on the side of his cowl and snapping a pair of translucent lenses over his eyes. An augmented reality HUD emerged over his vision, giving him access to multispectral vision and virtual evidence collection and analysis. Linked to his PDA, it gave him remote access to the Batcomputer's forensics and DNA databases. And allowed him to see even slight traces of disturbed dust; in this case, footprints.

"I can see two…make that _three_ distinct sets of footprints through here."

Damian followed him silently to an open area with a door leading into a side alley.

"The tracks stop here." Jason knelt down and dragged his index through a large spot of disturbed dust. "What do you think? Bag?"

Damian nodded. "This is where the deal was meant to happen. She undoubtedly had the money with her."

"Three sets of footprints…if C-Lion is as dangerous as you say, he wouldn't have handed over her parents before getting payment."

"Perhaps he brought one along as a goodwill offering."

Jason frowned and activated another filter on his lenses, eyes widening when he saw multiple traces of blood. "Or maybe he brought a bodyguard to help seal the deal."

There were two large, distinct blood spatters about six feet from each other, each in opposite directions.

"Spatter patterns are too short to be from gunfire…and too small to be fatal." Jason ran an analysis on the blood in each spatter. "Different blood types, one AB negative, the other O negative." He sent both to the Batcomputer's DNA database for comparison, and while it was running looked for any signs of the weaponry used. "Two people were injured; I'm willing to bet one of them was Lindsey. If the other was C-Lion or his bodyguard, then something went wrong and she fought back." His eye caught sight of more disturbed dust, and he pointed at it. "Drag marks, leading toward the door."

"So abducted, not murdered," said Damian.

Jason glanced at him. "If you have any other brilliant insights, feel free to chime in at any time."

Robin smirked and crossed his arms. "Like I said, you're on a roll and I don't want to dampen your enthusiasm."

"A girl's life is at stake, and you're holding out?"

"No, I'm letting you work."

Jason sighed. "Can you at least help look for her weapon? If she was taken, then Lindsey must've dropped it somewhere in here—"

"Found it!"

He looked over at Robin with a deadpan look on his face. "You found it five minutes ago, didn't you?"

"I plead the Fifth."

Jason rolled his eyes and strode over to find a shattered vodka bottle, or half of it anyway. Glancing around, he saw the other half deposited next to some pallets. His lenses scanned both halves and added them to his record of the scene at the same time that the DNA results came back.

He blinked and turned to Robin. "No match on the AB sample, but the O brought back a name: Louie Greer, convicted felon with multiple counts of aggravated assault and intimidation."

"An obvious choice for a bodyguard."

"Which means the other spatter was from Lindsey." He turned back to said spatter as all the pieces came together. "C-Lion sent Lindsey a text with a meeting time and place. When she showed up, they drew her to this room. They reneged on the deal for some reason, and when they made it clear she wasn't leaving, she picked up the bottle and fought back. Lindsey got in a good hit on Greer, breaking the bottle in half and sending it flying toward those pallets." He cocked his head at the smaller spatter, Lindsey's. "C-Lion stepped in and struggled with her over the bottle.

"The other half flew to where we found it. Then he clocked her over the head—probably with the butt of his gun—knocking her out and dragged her out the door." He caught sight of several smaller drops of blood following the drag marks outside and opened the door to reveal an empty alleyway. "Where they had a van waiting for them." Jason's temples throbbed with anger. "This was never a deal. It was a setup."

"Of course," Damian intoned. "Why accept a lump sum for two valuable workers when you can _take_ that sum and possibly get a new worker in the process."

Jason's jaw clenched. "And without any cameras or physical evidence, we have no idea where they went."

"Not necessarily."

He turned back to Damian. "Explain."

Robin nodded back toward the scene of the fight. "Greer was injured. Pretty badly, I'd say based on the size of the spatter and the fact that he left behind a visible blood trail."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he pulled up the scans of the bottle pieces on his HUD. "And based on the fact that there are some sizeable sections of the bottle missing from either half, I'm willing to bet he had some glass shrapnel too. For a head wound, that's _really_ bad. He'd have had to see someone for that."

Robin smirked knowingly. "And I just so happen to know of an underground doctor who operates in the area."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

…

There was no fanfare or warning before the door to the off-books clinic was kicked in so hard it practically exploded. Panicked shouts and screams sounded from inside as two figures stepped through the dust-filled opening, one taller than the other and sporting a leather jacket and cowl that covered everything but his mouth. It was this one that spoke, his voice grating and altered by an electronic modulator in the collar of his cowl.

"Everyone out. _Now_."

Two of the eight in the room went for guns. They regretted it immediately when Jason lunged forward and flew into one shoulder-first. Damian threw a shuriken from his belt and nailed the other gunman in the hand, making him drop his weapon with a scream. The pair were soon groaning in pain on the ground and being helped up by the smarter ones who decided not to fight.

"You heard the man," Robin said harshly. "Out."

They scattered and went for the door, all but one who was wearing a white lab coat and cowering in his seat. It was this one that Jason and Damian strode toward, the former cocking his head a bit as if appraising the doctor.

The man was a lanky, weasel-faced turd who was already shaking. And Jason hadn't even gotten _started_ yet. When he did, it was with a hand on his collar.

"Doctor," he grated.

"L-Look if you're looking for meds or drugs, they're in that cabinet!"

"I want C-Lion."

The doctor stopped short and stared at him, face paling. "W-What?"

"I know you treated one of his men this past Friday. I want to know where he hangs his head."

"I d-don't know what you're—"

Jason's fist through his desk shut him up right quick. "You were saying?"

His eyes were squeezed shut, one opening slowly to confirm he hadn't been pulverized. "L-Look…C-Lion is…he's a scary guy, okay? I rat him out, he'll have no use for me."

Jason stared at him for a moment, cocking his head, then took his hand and slammed it against the hole he'd made in the desk. "How about I break your hands," he growled, "and every single one of your fingers, into teeny—tiny—pieces? How much use do you think he'll have for you _then_?"

His shaking got ten times worse. "O-Okay, point made. There's this old tenement complex on the south side of Park Row where he hangs out."

"Does he keep anyone there?"

"What?"

Jason pressed down on his hand again. "Does he keep people there?"

"Well…yeah, a couple dozen guards at least at any given time."

"Anyone else?"

"M-Maybe? I don't know, man. I'm just the guy who patches them up."

Jason's eyes narrowed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, showing the doctor a picture of Lindsey. "You ever patch up this girl?"

"I-I don't know."

He mashed his head against the desk next, placing the phone in front of his eyes. "Take a closer look!"

"I—yeah! Yes!"

"When, and where did she go?!"

"Last Friday! It was her and the other guy; he brought them in together, and they left together! That's all I know, I swear!" He slowly looked up at Jason's masked face as best he could. "Please don't break me in half."

Jason sneered and released him roughly, shoving him against the desk. "Thank you for your help," he said in a mocking tone. "One more question: which one is your dominant hand?"

The man blinked at him, leaning back with his hands placed against the desk. "Um…the left?"

A nauseating _crack_ sounded through the room, followed quickly by a blood-curling scream when Jason shattered half the bones in his left hand with one blow.

"M-My hand! You said—"

"I said I'd break them _both_ if you didn't talk," Jason growled, "but I'm not about to let you keep treating Black Mask's thugs. If you want to stay alive, I suggest you find a new line of work."

And with that, they left the whimpering doctor to pick up the pieces.

…

Less than ten minutes later, Jason was posted on a building overlooking the front door of the structure the mob doctor had mentioned: a trio of six-story buildings linked together in a U-shape. It had all the hallmarks and disrepair of a tweaker house, but with ten times the security.

"He wasn't kidding about the guards. At least four on each entrance at all times and armed to the teeth." Jason tapped his cowl and engaged a passive sonar pulse that mapped out the inside of the building. "Not to mention the ones inside." His head shook slowly. "No way we can get in undetected on my end."

"Same on mine," came Damian's voice over their commlink. "This place is crawling with bottom feeders watching every entrance and stairwell."

"If Lindsey _is_ in there, they'll be watching her too. Fight pops off, they'll undoubtedly use her as a hostage."

"Agreed. We need to wait for cover of night."

He looked up from the complex to another building overlooking the opposite side of their target, where Damian was currently perched. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly," he replied. "We need the concealment and going in there without our full gear would be a mistake."

"But Lindsey—"

" _Think_ , Jason. They've had three days to work her over. If she isn't dead already, then they won't do it in the next couple hours. That gives us time to prepare, suit up, and plan our next move. We have _one_ shot at doing this right, or she's _definitely_ dead."

Jason's lips pursed tightly with a sigh. "Yeah…all right. Back to the cave?"

"Just need a few more shots of the perimeter and we'll be good to go."

"I'm leaving a microcam to watch the front door, see if we can establish a patrol pattern and a way to slip through it."

"Good idea. I'll do the same on my end."

A few minutes were enough to get the remote link set up, and a thumbs-up was exchanged between them before Jason took off back home.

…

As it happened, the multispectral cameras they'd set up gave them a great deal of data to work with as far as planning their rescue. It was a little unnerving to Jason how well he and Damian worked together. Frankly, he was surprised at the other's willingness—even _eagerness_ —to tag along. Still, given the stakes, he wasn't about to turn down able help. The fact that they'd been able to work in the cave unimpeded and unsupervised was a little strange though, and made Jason feel like he was missing something important. At any rate, night had fallen, and Jason was suiting up alongside Damian. All the old familiar pieces of his armor clicked into place like clockwork, a small score-mark on the plates comprising the back serving as a scar from his battle with Cheetah a few nights earlier.

His helmet, as always, was the last piece and slipped into place with a magnetic lock that would keep it anchored to the collar of his cowl. He made one last check of his sword and belt before turning to Robin, who fixed a sword of his own—a ninjato—to a sheath on his back between his suit and cape. Robin's suit was, as always, a mix of red, green, black, and yellow; with significant body armor around the vital areas and green armored gauntlets with a duo of blades on their sides. His domino mask was supplemented with a fiber-armored hood that linked to his cape and covered a great deal of his upper features in shadow.

"Ready, brother?"

Jason blinked and stared at him, an uncomfortable familiarity to Damian's words. "Um…yeah. Good to go."

Robin nodded firmly. "Good. Then let's move out."

He waved him toward the exit and strode toward his R-cycle, mounting and revving it as Jason took to the skies. Jason took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm himself, letting his training take over. His eyes snapped open a moment later as they both took off into the night.

* * *

AN: Hope you enjoyed Jason's first investigation. The next part—and conclusion of this case—will be out as soon as I get some feedback on this one. Apart from that, I don't have much else to say about this chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Batman Begins - Nycteris: start-2:35—working the crime scene, 2:35-end—underground hospital/interrogation


	4. Case File 1: Lindsey Markan, Part II

The cover of night, as it turned out, did not give as much cover as Damian had hoped. Point of fact, any approach they made would be arguably more visible, or at least more conspicuous, than in the daytime. At least while the sun was up there were the occasional passing cars and people to keep the guards from identifying every scrap of motion as a threat. The floodlights lining the rooftop of the complex put a large, fluorescent ring over the surrounding area. The doors and windows were all boarded up, except for the front and back, and a passive sonar pulse revealed additional reinforcement at each entrance to harden it against gunfire. In addition, there were two guards on the front door, plus one on the back, and at least six patrolling the perimeter at any time; all armed to the teeth with automatics and shotguns.

And that wasn't even _touching_ the dozen bodies in the lobby, though not all of them bore firearms. On each floor was an assortment of guards, at least one at the entrance of each stairwell, plus at least two patrolling the main hallway of each floor. The top floor had even more activity than the lobby, with the usual hallway patrol and no less than fourteen signatures occupying and ambling back and forth across the main room. Jason figured that would be where C-Lion was holed up. Theoretically, he could smash through the wall to that room and cut the head off the snake by separating him from his men. However, if there were hostages in the building (which was possible but unlikely given how few unarmed profiles there were), and he had standing orders to execute them if he was captured, they'd be dead before he could take out half of C-Lion's thugs.

Even with Damian's help, he couldn't take them all on, not in that little time.

Add to that the fact that the building was made of traditional brick and masonry, and there was no way inside that wouldn't involve plowing through a ton of guards or making a lot of noise. There was, however, one potential entrance that wouldn't immediately tip off the enemy: the roof, though with the ring of illumination around the perimeter, it would be damn near inaccessible without getting spotted. At least, under normal circumstances. The surrounding buildings were too far and short to establish a zipline or even for a grapnel to cover the entire difference—at least not without putting them within the guards' line of sight. However, tonight Robin had something he didn't normally: a flying half-Amazon brother.

So it was from directly above that they made their approach, touching down on the concrete with a whisper. Robin and Jason exchanged hand signals to communicate their means of entry. Robin pulled a small aerosol container from his belt containing a cryogenic substance, but Jason shook his head and showed him a miniaturized high-power laser cutter. Robin's face formed an annoyed deadpan at his obvious "cheating" for using future tech. Jason stuck out his tongue, an expression barely visible with the shadows cast by his helmet, before getting to work. He handed Damian the device, who then began to cut a hole through the concrete large enough to fit one of them that would drop down into a closet next to the hallway, as near as they could tell with only sonar to rely on.

Halfway through, Jason drew his sword and plunged it into the concrete as quietly as he could to provide himself with an anchor to pull the plug so it wouldn't crash into the room below. Its razor-sharp edge and aerodynamic design proved useful to reduce the sound of it going in. Once it was all the way in, he gave it a small tug at an angle to verify it wouldn't immediately slip loose. Then he gave Robin a nod, and he finished the cut. The weight of the concrete hit his shoulder a moment later, and he slowly drew it out and laid it down on the rooftop. A quick glance with sonar confirmed no increase in activity on the floor below or anywhere in the building, so they exchanged a nod before dropping down one after the other without a sound.

Jason sidled up to the door and opened it just a pinch, spotting two guards patrolling the hallway. He looked to Damian with a small shrug. Robin pulled something from his belt and held it up with an arched eyebrow. Jason smiled and gave him a thumbs-up before stepping aside to give Damian access to the crack. He slipped the device through, rolling it across the warped wood floor until it slid to a stop against one of their boots with a quiet tap. A quiet puff issued when he bent down to pick it up, sending a cloud of sedative gas dispersing throughout the occupied section of the hallway. Or, at least, he _thought_ it was a sedative. When the actual effects kicked in a moment later, Jason threw Damian the _hardest_ side-eyes.

"Really?" he whispered.

Robin smirked and glanced out the crack at the two _extremely_ giggly and staggering guards. "A few years ago, the Flashes had one of their sciency friends cook up a cocktail capable of intoxicating even _their_ accelerated metabolisms." He motioned to the swaying pair. "I found a way to aerosolize it."

"How does that even—" he blinked, "—you reworked it to absorb into the lungs rather than the stomach. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? It could turn their lungs into bloody mush."

"But it _didn't_ , and makes for a hilarious distraction." Robin turned his gaze toward the opposite end of the hallway, to the door leading to C-Lion's office. "Example in three, two, one…"

Two guards toting Benelli M4's opened the door with concerned looks that quickly turned annoyed when they spotted their comrades half slumped over each other with intoxicated giggles.

"Really?" one of them asked the pair.

The other spoke in a deeper, gruff voice. "Y'know if C-Lion catches you like this, you're next in the basement."

They tried to speak through their laughter but failed, only managing to point at the empty gas capsule. Before the shotgun-toting thugs could register the meaning of the device, they were thrown over Jason and Damian's shoulders and pinned to the ground while they were choked unconscious. The other two's eyes widened as their laughter abruptly stopped. A knife-hand to the side of each of their necks momentarily interrupted the already-sluggish flow of blood to their brains and rendered them unconscious.

Robin and Jason turned toward the door the thugs had left open and nodded at it. "And now we have a silent entrance."

Jason glanced at the unconscious guards. "That's two of the fifteen down, but there are eleven more in there, and they're bound to be armed and in contact with the rest."

"That's what _this_ is for," Damian replied, pulling something else from his belt. "Localized EMP; should knock out all active electronics within a twenty-foot radius. Drop it in the middle of the room, and we cut C-Lion off from ready reinforcements."

Jason checked his belt and gauntlets in readiness. "None of that'll matter if they get a shot off."

Robin drew his own sword from his back. "Then don't let them get a shot off."

The draft coming in through the open door must've drawn some attention, because someone came over to close it with a pool cue in his hands. Given that he wasn't holding it aggressively, there was probably a table in the room with him. His eyes widened for a split-second in alarm before an armored fist to the face snapped his jaw from its socket and rendered him unconscious. A red-green form threw something into the room, sliding it next to one of the pool table's legs as it went off, every light and computer in the room popping as they were fried in the electromagnetic burst.

The chaos that followed was a mess of shouts, pained groans, and hard impacts; but true to their objective, not one of C-Lion's soldiers managed to get off a shot. Robin's sword flashed with the faint light cast by the sparks that issued when he slashed through their guns, as did Jason's. The lenses on their masks gave them perfect night vision, which made the fight all too easy given their enemies' already-substantial disorientation. C-Lion went for a pistol hidden in his desk, but found his hand pinned to the desk by one of Jason's batarangs. A right cross caved in the nose of one grunt, and a somersault kick by Robin laid another out when his head made contact with a radiator on his way down.

Jason's roundhouse to the ribs shattered half of his next opponent's, and a quick glance at his bandaged face revealed him as Louie Greer. Snarling, Jason grabbed him by face, covering his mouth, and with his other pressed his palm into the bandaged wound—hard. Feeling the vibrations of his resulting scream through his glove, Jason gave him just another moment of agony before head-butting him unconscious. And then he turned to C-Lion, who had wisely remained out of the fight and was trying to stop the blood flowing from his perforated hand. The rest of the room was clear, and when Jason recalled his mental count, he was astonished to find it had been a mere twenty seconds since entry.

Robin strode over to the one light that had been inactive before the EMP went off, C-Lion's desk lamp, and flicked it on, allowing their target to see both of them in a faint, menacing light. Robin, his sword slung over his shoulder by the flat of its blade and a malevolent smirk on his face. Jason, the knuckles of his gauntlet stained with the blood of the now-unconscious muscle littering the room and the blazing blue of his eyes just visible through the Y-visor of his helmet.

Despite the fact that he was clearly outmatched, C-Lion kept up a confident façade and with a gulp began to speak. "You two just made a _very_ big mistake." When neither of them answered, he continued. "Do you have _any_ idea who I am? When Black Mask finds out about this—"

Jason's hand snatched him by the collar and pulled him over the desk in the blink of an eye. "Black Mask isn't here," he grated. " _We_ are. And we're _pissed_."

Robin's vile smirk didn't waver once. "Yeah, you might not want to talk shit to the two guys who just leveled your whole security force."

"Unless you want to join them on the ground—or in it—you're going to answer every question we ask without hesitation."

Apparently, C-Lion now knew to take him seriously, because he shivered a bit and visibly paled. He looked past Jason's shoulder at Robin. "But—you're the Bat's brat. You really gonna let him—"

Robin shrugged nonchalantly. "It's his case. I'm just here as an observer."

C-Lion sneered and turned back to Jason. "You won't do it. I don't know who the hell you think you are, but if you're working with the traffic light, you're workin' with the Bat." He made the mistake of getting closer to snarl his next words directly into Jason's faceplate. "And the Bat's got rules."

Jason blinked, expending physical effort not to strangle this fool and rein in his anger. Instead, he lifted one of his bracers to C-Lion's eye level, activating a holoprojector that emitted the picture he'd taken of Lindsey. "Where's the girl? And her parents?" he added as an afterthought.

C-Lion blinked once, twice, and then started to laugh. "Seriously? That's what this is about?" He sneered. "The hell do you care? They're street trash, just meat to be used how we see fit."

Jason's head cocked a bit as he heard Robin's grip tighten around his sword. "Is that how you see anyone weaker than you?" he asked with icy neutrality.

He huffed a laugh. "That's how it _is_. Strong as you are, you can't say you don't agree."

Jason stared at him for a moment, lips pursed, then abruptly smashed the side of his head into his desk, enough to leave a dent but not quite enough to render him unconscious; and kept him pressed there. "So if I decide to use your head as a hammer to pound a few dings into this desk, I'm sure you wouldn't mind." He pressed down with a little more force, feeling and hearing something begin to creak and give—though he couldn't tell whether it was the desk or C-Lion's skull. "Or maybe I'll just use you to make it into compressed wood. I'm good either way."

He was hyperventilating at this point, trying to claw himself free and failing miserably.

Jason snarled. "The girl— _where_?"

"You'll…never find them without me."

"Without your head, maybe."

He abruptly stopped pressing him into the desk, then smashed his elbow into C-Lion's left shoulder, dislocating it as he muffled his resulting scream with a hand. He used that hand to lift his head up to meet his narrowed eyes.

"The _rest_ of your body is fair game." A batarang was pulled from his belt and angled threateningly at his crotch. "I'm ready to start playing if you are."

Jason slowly lowered his hand from the man's mouth, allowing him to gasp for breath and form words.

"They're—dead," he gasped, baring his teeth. "You're too late."

He stared at C-Lion blankly for a few seconds, a cold pit of dread settling into his stomach as he released him and lowered the batarang.

"Wow," Robin drawled after a few moments of silence. "You must be a really _special_ kind of idiot…"

It took Jason a second or two to figure out that wasn't directed at him.

"…if you think we're gonna buy that." Robin sheathed his sword and stepped up to C-Lion, patting him down for anything useful. "Killing the girl and her parents gives you nothing. They're just resources for you, like you said, but they're still valuable." He met the drug dealer's eyes coldly. "Black Mask would be even more pissed at _you_ if you started killing off his workforce for no reason." Damian nodded slowly. "Yeah…they're alive." His head cocked slightly. "And based on your exaggerated reaction, I'm willing to bet they're somewhere in the building."

Jason's eyes widened. "We scanned the whole building. There were no signs of civilians."

"With sonar, yes," Robin replied, returning his focus to C-Lion, "but heavy enough rock and concrete deposits could bounce it right back and even block infrared. Tell me, does this place have a basement?"

C-Lion's eyes widened dramatically as he replied, " _No_."

"That's a yes." Robin smirked malevolently. "Which means we don't need you anymore."

"No-no-no, please—"

A sharp crack coincided with an elbow to the temple that knocked him clean unconscious. C-Lion's limp body slumped back-first over his desk as Robin released him, turning back to Jason. At seeing the tension slowly leak out of Jason, Damian sighed and patted his arm.

"Come on." Robin nodded toward the exit. "We gotta find that entrance."

Jason blinked and met his eyes. He gulped and nodded jerkily. "Yeah." They both made their way toward the door, Jason trying to steady his erratic heartbeat. "Thanks for that. I…he got under my skin for a second."

Robin nodded. "I figured. Seen it before." He was silent for the time it took them to get back out into the hallway, giving Jason a small glance. "Happens to the best of us."

Jason gave Damian a long, confused look. "Were you just…comforting?"

Robin rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't read into it, Prince. I need your head in the game for this next part." A moment later, and he was back to all business as the lenses of his mask slipped back over his eyes and lit up. "Any idea where they could be keeping the door to the basement?"

They both crouched and looked down through the other floors, Jason mentally noting that the other guards remained oblivious to the fracas that had taken place in the penthouse.

"Not sure…gotta be on the first floor, but I don't see any—wait—those two. They're standing next to each other for no apparent reason."

"As if flanking a doorway," Robin confirmed. "Let's go."

Jason shrugged. "How? We go down there, we'll be spotted. Go through the back or front door, spotted."

Damian shook his head. "Not necessarily. Take a look at the ones manning the stairwell. Notice anything?"

Jason followed his advice and let his eyes widen in realization. "None of them are inside it."

Robin rapped on the top floor's stairwell entrance. "And there are no windows to look into."

"Which means we'll only have to deal with the lookout on the first floor and those two on the door if we go straight down."

"Exactly." Robin pushed the door open and took a long look over the side. "You ready?"

Jason sighed hard and began to fly. "Ready as I can be."

He gave Damian a nod, the motion exchanged a second before Robin fired his grapnel into the ceiling and vaulted over the rail to rappel down the space in the center of the spiral staircase. Jason followed in his wake, the pair silently descending five floors to get to the ground and form up on either side of the exit. Robin silently counted down with his fingers, pulling the door open and allowing Jason to yank the guard inside. A few moments of a firm blood-hold rendered him unconscious as Jason dragged him further into the stairwell while Robin checked the hallway outside for anyone who'd seen. No one had.

The basement door was contained within a room directly opposite the hallway from the stairwell entrance, but there was another lookout far to the left on the opposite side of the building. If he noticed their movement in his peripheral vision and raised the alarm, it was game over; and the door to the basement entrance was a pull, not a push, which would leave them exposed longer. Still, if he hadn't noticed them grab his comrade, he was hardly observant enough to catch them switching rooms. The real problem was the two guards inside; they were looking directly at the door Jason and Robin were about to breach and armed with automatic weapons.

There was, however, a vulnerability to their setup: a small window in the center of the door that gave neither guard a good look at the stairwell but gave Jason a perfect means of delivery for a batarang loaded with a condensed smoke payload. The quiet tinkle of breaking glass failed to reach the other lookout as both guards began coughing at the overpowering haze of gray smoke filling their room. Within seconds, Damian and Jason were inside and using their own weapons to club them unconscious. Exchanging a look to verify they were okay, Jason drew his sword and cautiously opened the steel basement door, which was triple-bolted from the outside.

A long staircase led them to another triple-bolted door that opened into a T-shaped hallway with doors on either side. Jason and his brother exchanged another look before cautiously moving in, checking each room and finding them devoid of people, but not objects. Scattered around were moldy beds, sleeping bags, and hospital racks lined with IV bags of some unknown substance. Robin picked one up and looked it over, unable to determine its contents for lack of label. A cursory check of another one revealed saline, and a closer check of the rack revealed bottles of Narcan.

"What is all that?" Jason asked uneasily. "What is this place?"

Damian blinked slowly as he turned back to Jason, a look slowly drawing over his features that was somewhere between horror and rage. "I think…I think I might've been wrong before."

Jason's eyes widened, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. "Now _there's_ a statement I never thought I'd hear you utter."

Robin's lips pursed as he sent Jason a small glare that sobered him up quickly. He held up the unmarked bag and Narcan. "Saline, unmarked IVs, Narcan…what do these pieces tell you?"

He stared at him uneasily, mind blanking out for answers.

Damian's head shook slowly. "Black Mask isn't just _recruiting_ addicts as workers." He stared down at the bag and looked over at the bed's stained sheets. "He's _creating_ them to populate his workforce."

Jason's eyes widened in horror. "Then that means—" his head snapped to the side, looking down the hallway, "—oh God, Lindsey!"

Both of them took off, opening and checking every door in the place until one of them yielded fruit. Jason couldn't help but stare in shock as he saw the huddled, pale figure tied to one of the beds. Even with her frazzled red hair, she was almost unrecognizable between the bruises on her face and how thin and jaundiced she'd become. And she had an IV in her arm linked to one of those unmarked bags. Jason gulped and slowly stepped toward her, freezing when her eyes drifted open and caught sight of him. To his relief, she didn't freak out, only seemed to look at him with drowsy curiosity.

Jason knelt at her bedside and carefully examined the injection site. The stick was accurate, if sloppy, and various other track-marks in her arm indicated that this wasn't the first time they'd had her hooked up. As gently as he could, he pressed down on the injection site and slowly removed the needle, carelessly tossing it aside as soon as it was out and using his free hand to retrieve a temporary adhesive from his belt. He applied it to the hole and waited a few moments for it to cure before turning his attention to the lethargic Lindsey Markan.

A tap of his collar activated his voice changer. "Lindsey?" When she made no response, he raised his voice a bit. "Lindsey Markan?"

Her eyes widened suddenly, as if startled, and settled on his helmeted face, blinking several times before she licked her lips and forced scratchy words from her no-doubt parched throat. "W-Who?"

"Doesn't matter right now." Jason tried and succeeded in forming a rough approximation of a reassuring smile. "I'm gonna get you out of here, get you some help."

"M-Mom, Dad."

Jason glanced behind him, realizing for the first time that Robin wasn't there, and turned back to Lindsey. "We'll find them, I promise, but right now I need to get you to safety."

Lindsey swallowed hard, eyes wild and unfocused but fiercely searching for something. "H-Here."

His eyes widened slightly. "Your parents? They're here? In this basement?"

She swallowed again and nodded sluggishly, relief etched into her features.

Jason nodded back. "Okay. My—" he hesitated over the word for a moment, "—my partner is already searching the other rooms. If they're here, we'll find them."

An electronic voice in his ear caught his attention. "Already did. They're okay, and apparently more coherent than their daughter."

"Were they hooked up?" Jason asked.

Damian took a moment to respond. "To saline, not heroin. Looks like they've been in here a couple days at least."

Jason's jaw clenched. "Then get them moving." He gingerly lifted Lindsey from the bed, her barefoot form clad only in a grungy hospital gown. "They're not spending one more minute in this hellhole."

"Read my mind. Meet you at the stairs."

When Damian and the Markans arrived at the exit door, they were clearly more alert and able than their dosed-up daughter. And certainly awake enough to panic when they saw her condition. Jason only just managed to shift his body to block them before they toppled Lindsey out of his grip, Robin helping a moment later.

"I get it, okay?" Jason said, cutting off the incoherent babble they were spouting. "But she's breathing, and we're getting out of here, so calm down."

"Out?" the mother uttered in disbelief. "How? There's an army between us and the exit."

"We already carved out a path," Robin assured them. "Just need to get to the top of those stairs. So if you'll excuse me…"

He gently pushed past them and tried the handle, freezing when the door wouldn't budge. Damian frowned and tried again, with significantly more force. It didn't move an inch. With no windows to glimpse outside, he couldn't see exactly what was happening, but a click and whine from a speaker and camera they hadn't noticed quickly explained everything.

"You should've killed me when you had the chance," said C-Lion's mic-distorted voice.

Jason's gaze snapped to the speaker, noting a small hole beneath it that told him it was a two-way connection. "You bolted the doors."

"And caught you two like rats in a trap. And you said _I_ was the idiot."

"Yes," Robin countered, "and you still are if you think this is enough to hold us."

C-Lion laughed. "Those doors are six-inches of reinforced steel with external bolts and reinforced anchors in the walls. They're made to withstand repeated blasts of C4, and you're thirty feet underground. I don't even have to go down there to kill you. Time and starvation will do it for me."

Damian played his trump card again. "I don't think Black Mask will approve of having three less mules to carry his product."

"Probably not," he replied, nonplussed, "but I think he'll forgive me when I tell him I got rid of the Bat-brat and his new friend in the process. Who knows?" he laughed. "I might even get a _promotion_."

Jason sneered and shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't care who you hurt, or many necks you have to step on. Just…tools for your own ambition; that's all people are to you."

"…what the hell else am I gonna use them for? Teddy bears? I'd offer you two a last meal, but I don't think I trust you enough to let my men deliver it to you. Besides, that'll just prolong your inevitable deaths and, well…" he chuckled sadistically, "that'd just be cruel."

Jason exchanged a long look with Robin, lowering his quietly furious voice just enough that the intercom couldn't pick it up. "Can I please cut loose now?"

Robin smirked and held out his arms to receive Lindsey. "By all means, please do."

Jason's jaw clenched as he handed the girl to his brother, her parents watching his armored form with confusion and a small bit of hope in their eyes. His cold gaze turned back to the camera as his fists clenched at his sides.

"One day in the future," said Jason, his voice cold as ice, "we're going to laugh about this night." His eyes narrowed. "Well, we meaning the ones in this room. You…" his upper lip twitched, "by the time I'm finished with _you_ , I doubt you'll even be able to _smile_."

And with that, he drove his fist into the door with all the might he could muster.

…

The first blow shook the camera so badly, the image C-Lion was getting shifted to static for a moment. When it resolved a second later, not only was the helmeted punk not screaming in pain and clutching a broken hand, he was coiling up for another shot. And then he noticed the _dent_ in the door. A _big_ one. The second blow came from his left hand, and created a nearly identical one on the opposite side, creating an ominous sort of symmetry. His right came in once more, each blow making the image resolution more and more fuzzy, but at this point, C-Lion didn't care. He picked up the nearest walkie and started screaming for his men to cover the basement entrance at the top of the stairs.

But by then, the door at the bottom had already started to cave outward with the force of his repeated punches. The camera feed was almost indistinguishable at that point, but when the armored figure's blows stalled for a moment or two, it cleared just enough to see the whites of his teeth and the furious blaze of his eyes as he stared directly into the camera. For that single, terrifying instant, it was as if he looked directly into his _soul_ …and found him wanting. The terror of that look, however, was nothing next to what he felt when he cocked his right arm back and charged his whole body forward into a haymaker that sheared the door off its wall, reinforcements and all. He gave the camera one last glare before _flying_ up the steps.

And when the whole _building_ shook just a little, C-Lion got to thinking that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally crossed the _wrong_ one.

…

Jason's armored gloves took the hits fairly well, all things considered. They weren't made of volatile Promethium like the bracer portion of his gauntlets, so they wouldn't hold up forever; but thanks to the impact-absorbing gel coating the underside of the composite-plated knuckles, they were little the worse for wear after clearing out the first door. Still, he didn't like their chances of staying intact if he kept holding back, and he figured slowly bringing down one door had already put enough of the fear of God into his enemy. So he flew toward the door at the top of the steps as fast as he possibly could and rammed into it bracelets-first.

The effect was a resounding, reverberating shockwave that shook dust and brick pieces loose across the whole building. And sent the second door smashing through a third of the forces C-Lion had sent to stop him, as well as most of the wall at their back. The other two-thirds scrambled to dive out of the way of the massive steel projectile, only a few not freezing up in fear and angling their weapons at the stairway. The few shots they got off were deflected or shattered by Jason's gauntlets as his arms became little more than steel-gray blurs. He hit the right side of the room first, reflexively throwing his left arm back to block an incoming round, then using his other hand to backhand another shooter into the wall.

He left behind a small crater in the tiles as Jason moved onto his next target, kicking his weapon so hard it bent in half, then bringing that leg back in a hook-kick that broke several of his ribs and sent him flying back-first into the wall. Two batarangs flew from his hands and knocked the rifles from the grips of the two trying to get a bead on him, both finding themselves blacked out when he flew to their end of the room and smashed their heads into the wall. He lunged right when he heard one of them scrambling upright, driving his elbow into the man's lower ribs and spinning in a low trip-kick that sent another one tumbling face-first into the floor.

His rising uppercut sent another thug flying back-first into the ceiling, and two semi-automatic shots were deflected from behind him before he saw a veritable army of guards pouring out of both stairwells. Apparently, C-Lion had rallied the rest of his men for one last desperate assault, not knowing he'd already lost. Especially since most of them didn't even have guns. At least thirty angry men charged toward him with various firearms and improvised weapons. In a constricted space like that hallway, such overwhelming numbers would usually be a game over.

In Jason's case, all they made for was a wide row of dominos.

He launched himself off the ground, arms stretched outward on either side as he effectively clotheslined them three or four at a time. Bullets and knives pinged off his gauntlets and armor plates, for those who managed to get a glancing hit in. He barely even felt it, so entranced was he with the thrill and flow of combat. His fists, knees, boots, and elbows shattered bone and sent broken bodies flying in every direction, a spinning backhand nailing two in the head one after the other and ramming both of them into the hardwood floor. A leaping knee to the face laid one out, and a falling punch to the top of the head sent another crumpling to the floor.

Within the space of less than thirty seconds, he'd leveled more than half the enemy force, but there were still some holdouts. He picked two up by their collars and threw them into corresponding groups of their comrades as a squad came in to attack him from behind. A few semi-automatic rounds were shattered on contact with his gauntlets, which were starting to shimmer with silvery light. When they were empty, they drew knives or picked up blunt weapons from their fallen comrades. Jason grinned, all teeth, and stood his ground, noting that there was movement behind him.

When he recognized the familiar stride of his brother heading for the rear exit, he smiled wider and waved his opponents forward. Their weapons pinged off his gauntlets one after the next as he waited to counter until one of them overextended himself with a long knife thrust. He sidestepped the sloppy attack and pulled his arm out farther, bringing his elbow down into the man's elbow joint and sending it a hundred degrees in the wrong direction. His scream was silenced by a backhand a split-second later, and a roundhouse kick to the face took out another one before he could get halfway through his swing. The three that were left cowered uncertainly some twelve feet off when a group of four more emerged from the stairwell at their back.

Snarling, Jason eyed his gauntlets, noting that their shimmer had increased to a nearly luminous level. And then he smirked as the last seven charged him, checking his peripheral vision to make sure Robin and the others were clear.

He brought his forearms together _hard_ when they closed to about six feet, causing a _massive_ shockwave of kinetic energy that slammed into and sent them flying to the other side of the building. It also tore quite a few bricks off the walls on the way, leaving the unconscious thugs in a pile of blood, broken glass, and brick dust.

Jason breathed heavily for a few moments, his blood outright humming with adrenaline.

Then he touched the side of his helmet and snapped lenses over his eyes, looking up toward C-Lion's office to see…

 _Nothing_.

He frowned, looking around the piles of unconscious bodies and trying to pick his face out of the crowd. His head shook slowly.

 _No…C-Lion's a consummate survivor. He wouldn't put himself in harm's way, not after what he saw me do to the door. Which means…_

The squealing of tires from the back door caught his attention and sent his eyes widening in horror.

 _This was only a distraction!_

…

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, Damian had thought Diana was exaggerating about Jason's abilities. Even when he demolished the door with his bare hands and smashed through the second one even easier, he'd doubted. But when he and the Markans reached the top of the steps, all doubts vanished. The carnage, the _brutality_ , and the look on Jason's face when he'd glanced back to check on them…he may have been inexperienced and more than a tad immature, but his future brother was _not_ someone to be trifled with.

With that thought occupying his mind as he and the others exited the rear of the building, Damian gave the streets a cursory glance to confirm there were no guards outside. When he did, he nodded for the parents to follow him while they made their way onto the street. Since Damian had only brought his bike, the best thing to do would be to call the police and wait for them to provide transport—or perhaps an ambulance, given Lindsey's condition. It wasn't until they made their way to a deserted parking lot on the other side of the street that he took a closer look at Lindsey and realized she'd stopped breathing.

Heart leaping into his throat, he set her down as quickly and gently as possible and reached for a previously empty pocket in his belt. Before he could even flick it open, he heard the screeching of tires behind him and whirled around to see a pair of fast-approaching headlights. The silhouette of a van resolved in his vision a split-second before he realized he wasn't fast enough to save Lindsey and himself. So he drew his arms around her and tucked in as tight as he could. He wouldn't survive the hit, but with his body as a buffer, _she_ might. He could only hope her parents or Jason would check his belt and find what they needed to get her breathing again.

The screeching and screaming of Lindsey's parents continued for another second or two before they were completely overpowered by another sound—that of shattering glass and twisted metal. Robin's eyes turned to the headlights only to widen dramatically.

Between those headlights, his silhouette casting a large shadow over Robin and Lindsey, was Jason.

His arms were up between him and the vehicle, his left forearm buried in its hood while his right hand braced it at the wrist. For the first second or so after impact, the van was tilted forward, its rear hanging in the air. And then Jason ripped his arm from the hood and it crashed back down to Earth with a jiggle or two. Damian didn't need to see his face to know there was nothing but rage etched into it as he stalked toward the driver-side door and tore it off its hinges with one hand. Jason ripped the driver out of his seatbelt, holding him off the ground by the neck as his altered voice snarled at him.

"Go ahead, worm. _Smile_."

…

Back in the basement, when C-Lion had been prematurely gloating about his victory, Jason had felt an ice-cold rage permeate his entire body. When he'd flown out of the building to see the white van about to pancake his brother and Lindsey, it immediately turned white-hot. When he'd dropped directly into its path and braced himself in the split-second before impact, that feeling had only intensified. And when he tore the door off and put his hand around that _worm's_ throat, it was the only thing he could feel.

"Go ahead, worm," he growled, baring his teeth. He drew C-Lion closer, almost face to face as he gasped for breath, eyes wide with terror. " _Smile_."

As the dealer continued to gasp and thrash around, his rage presented two equally appealing arguments. On the one hand, he wanted to make good on his promise and beat this miserable piece of _shit_ to the point where he would eat through a straw for the rest of his life. On the other, a fierce and vengeful urge to snap his neck took hold. In the end, neither argument was more effective than an urgent call from Damian.

" _Brother_!"

That single word, yelled in a tone that was filled with indistinguishable emotions, managed to break through his rage and snapped his attention to Robin and Lindsey—whose chest was no longer rising and falling. Jason gulped and gave C-Lion one last look before slamming his head into the van's steering wheel and leaving his unconscious body draped over the seat. He rushed to their side, where Lindsey's parents were already kneeling and crying hysterically.

"What happened?" Jason demanded in a panic.

Robin's lips pursed tightly as he pulled something from his belt. "She stopped breathing. I think they had her on dose for too long."

Jason blinked rapidly, looking at Damian's intent features. "I need to get her to a hospital." He glanced at the object in Damian's hand, the darkness preventing him from making it out properly. "Robin, what are you—"

His eyes widened when the faint light from the headlights reflected off his helmet and illuminated the label on the side of the bottle his brother held under Lindsey's nostrils.

 _Narcan…of course._

Jason held his breath as Lindsey remained unresponsive…and let out a massive breath of relief when her chest rose with a gasping breath. Her eyes slowly drifted open a few seconds later, blinking several times until they stopped on her parents' tear-streaked faces.

"Mom?" she whispered in a frail voice. "Dad?"

"We're here, baby," her father sobbed, taking her hand and gripping it tightly. "We're both right here."

Damian and Jason exchanged a long look as they both took a breath to calm their nerves. A glance was cast toward the building, Jason realizing that there were large cracks webbing across its walls. A quiet huff exited his throat as he turned back to the reunited family and let a small smile crease his lips as he heard sirens approaching in the distance. They didn't move once until the police arrived.

…

Hours later, news crews were on the scene of what was being called the biggest drug bust in six months. The criminal underling and small-time drug kingpin known as C-Lion was exposed as Tammany Iles, a former resident of Blüdhaven who'd moved to Gotham only a year earlier. He and over forty of his accomplices were arrested under charges of drug possession, intimidation, racketeering, and another half of the penal code. With the heroin and surveillance tapes recovered from the scene documenting Iles' activities over the past months, there was no doubt their charges would stick.

According to the statement she gave police before being sent off to recover at Gotham General, Lindsey Markan had ended up in this situation trying to help her parents get a better life. A few months previous, she'd begun to research state-owned rehabilitation programs for addicts and worked to come up with the money to put her parents into a good one. When that had happened, she tried to reach out to them using an old means of communication, but was instead contacted by Iles, who had recruited them as drug mules and offered her the chance to buy their freedom with the money she'd saved to help them. Wanting at least a down payment for rehab after they were free, Lindsey worked for another three weeks to give herself a money cushion, then set up the meet once the amount was agreed upon.

As one might expect from such a devious crook, the meeting was a trap and while Iles appreciated the money as a gesture of good will, he was after something far more sinister. Specifically, to use her uptown access and business acumen to expand his operations into higher-end markets—such as Gotham Academy and other upper-class establishments. He would only release her parents from his service if Lindsey agreed to work for him. She refused and fought back when they tried to take her but was ultimately unsuccessful in escaping and spent the next three days in captivity.

She'd been in and out of consciousness the whole time, so her memory of the actual captivity was fuzzy, but she'd been lucid enough to know that Iles was keeping her parents in the same place. Lindsey remembered very little after until her door had opened and permitted the gray-armored figure who had, alongside the Dark Knight's partner Robin, rescued her and her family from Iles and a veritable _army_ of thugs. With one last attempt at revenge, Iles sealed his own fate by crashing his vehicle headlong into this armored entity, whose body alone stopped it in its tracks. The rest of his men had received similar injuries, though some much more severe than others. All of them were expected to live, though some might have been irreversibly crippled.

Given how they had tormented the Markan family and others like them, few could spare them much sympathy.

…

As Lindsey saw the news broadcast draw to a close, her eyes slowly blinked with exhaustion. She glanced down and tensed for a moment, a knee-jerk reaction at seeing a needle in her arm. But this one had been put in by an actual doctor and filled with fluids that would clean out her system. Her unoccupied left hand drifted up to push a bit of hair out of her face, her eyes drifting to the red marks on her wrists from where she'd resisted her restraints. She frowned and sighed hard, leaning her head back and staring at the white foam ceiling. The lights in her room had been dimmed to allow her to sleep, all of them out save the one by her bedside, which cast a warm orange glow over her upper body.

A sudden, almost inaudible scuff from the direction of the window prompted her head to snap toward it, her eyes widening when she saw a tall silhouette slowly make its way toward her. Her bated breath was released in a small sigh of relief when she caught sight of the helmet and silvery wings on his chest.

"It's you," she said softly.

He stood there in silence for a moment, opening his mouth but saying nothing as he seemed to consider his words. When he spoke, it was with a strange modulation that couldn't be natural. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Lindsey managed a tired smile. "I will be, thanks to you."

He smiled a little and tilted his head. "I had a little help."

She smiled wider. "Okay, thanks to you and Robin."

He gave her a firm look. "Give yourself a little more credit."

Lindsey blinked in confusion.

"If you hadn't been the kind of person you are, worked so hard to help your parents, I wouldn't have figured out why you disappeared, or where to look."

Her eyes widened suddenly, hands tightening around the bed's rails. "My parents, where—"

"Easy," he said soothingly with a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down. "They're in a room right down the hall from you, resting. As _you_ should be."

Lindsey sighed in relief and nodded.

He slowly released her shoulder and with his other hand raised a familiar bag into view. "I found this on a last check of the building. It still has all the money you brought to the meeting…" his head tilted as the faintest hint of a smirk played over his lips, " _plus_ a little extra. I figured after everything he put you through, Iles owed you at least that much." He laid the overstuffed duffel on the chair next to her bed. "You can use it to help your parents start over when you get out. And…maybe yourself too."

She tilted her head in confusion.

He frowned. "They'd had you for three days when I found you, periodically dosing you on heroin, trying to get you addicted so you'd work for them. Heroin is an _extremely_ addictive drug, and given the amount they were feeding into your system…I'm just saying you might want to check _yourself_ into rehab, at least for a few days, just to be sure."

Lindsey nodded slowly, stared at the bag, then at him, and slowly felt her face crumple as she dissolved into tears. Somewhere in the incoherent sobs, she felt a gentle gloved hand on her face and looked up through her blurry vision to see him leaning over her.

"I can't…" she managed to gasp as she began to calm, wiping her eyes, " _ever_ pay you back for what you've done."

Something changed in his eyes, almost like he was offended, but they remained kind. "You don't owe me a thing."

Lindsey gave him a wide, watery smile as she patted the back of the hand on her cheek. "You're my knight in shining armor."

He smiled back and chuckled a little. "I suppose I am." His mirth faded to a small curve. "And a knight doesn't fight for reward. Not for money, not for glory, not recognition…or even thanks." He drew back and took his hand from her face, gently gripping her fingers. "He fights because it's the right thing to do."

Lindsey stared at him for a second. "Well…maybe so, but tonight you get more than that." She held his hand in both of hers, her fingers tightening around his glove. " _Thank you_."

He bowed his head just a bit. "You are very welcome." He took a long breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, his voice was just a bit lighter, though still odd with that modulation. "I'll let you rest."

Lindsey watched in blank admiration as he turned for the window, then pushed herself to a sitting position and raised her scratchy voice. "Wait!" she called as loudly as she could.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her.

Her head shook a bit. "Who are you?"

"Me?" He blinked and stared off to the side for a moment before the edge of his lips quirked upward. "I'm nobody." His gaze met hers. "You said it yourself: I'm just a knight. That's all."

Lindsey smiled warmly and nodded to him. "Then…thank you, Knight. Thank you for bringing my family home."

He didn't respond for a while, and when he did, his altered voice cracked. "Anytime."

With that, he slid the window open and stepped out onto the lip, shutting it behind him. Lindsey waved to him, still smiling, and he smiled back and placed his right fist over his heart in a salute. Her jaw dropped slightly and eyes widened when he launched himself into a backflip off the sill, vanishing from sight a split-second later.

She couldn't help staring a few moments longer, just managing to catch a glimpse of a gray blur as the Knight took off and vanished into the darkness.

…

When Jason touched down back at the Batcave and began pulling off his grime-covered armor piece by piece, he immediately knew something was wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, so he quickly gave up and chalked it up to frayed nerves from the extremely long day he'd had. That was, until he'd stowed his armor for later cleaning and froze upon finding four figures standing beside the elevator door. He stood there like a deer in the headlights as his father crossed his arms and, with a slight smirk, opened his mouth to speak.

"So…how's your homework coming?"

In the moments immediately following that question, Jason didn't move one inch and mentally prepared himself for the reaming-out of his _life_. When Diana and Bruce slowly strode toward him, he tensed up a bit only to gape in shock when they enveloped him in a tight embrace. Jason stared at them, then at Damian and Alfred, who looked as nonchalant as could be; and felt little else but confusion at this turn of events. That is, until his mother spoke in a voice filled with emotion.

"I'm proud of you, Jason."

He blinked twice before the tears came and he hugged them both as tightly as he could, probably threatening to bruise a couple of Bruce's ribs. He didn't care, and from how close his father held him back, he didn't think Bruce did either. They stayed that way for a time he couldn't tell before finally drawing apart with smiles all around.

"Next time you need to use the cave," Bruce said, a mild reprimand in his tone, "just _ask_."

Jason laughed in relief and no small amount of euphoria as he nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."

Bruce ruffled his hair a bit before nodding toward the elevator. "Shall we?"

" _Absolutely_ ," he replied in an exhausted tone.

It was as they stepped off the elevator that they all went their separate ways, uttering their "good nights." Diana punctuated hers to Jason with a kiss on his forehead. When Jason and Damian were the only two left, the former hesitated to leave him.

"Hey, Dami?"

Damian arched an eyebrow at him.

"Did you know Mom and Dad were watching us the whole time?"

Damian looked up in thought for a moment. "I suspected as much early on. Father always keeps a close eye on me; it wouldn't have made sense for him not to do the same with you. My suspicions were confirmed when our access to the cave's resources remained unimpeded."

"And you didn't think to bring it up?"

He shrugged. "Since they hadn't stepped in, I figured they must've had their reasons. Now I realize it was a test…of both of us, perhaps. And you passed." He turned to leave, but Jason stopped him with a touch. "Yes?"

Jason gulped and held out his hand. "Thank you." He smirked wryly. "Much as I hate to admit it, I couldn't have pulled this off without you."

He blinked and shook it firmly, smirking right on back. "Credit where credit is due. I appreciate that." He didn't immediately release Jason's hand. "Though I'm sure I could've gotten them out of that mess myself, without you to occupy the enemy's attention, I don't know that the Markans would've escaped unharmed. So…good work."

Jason's smirk slowly turned into a grin as he stood back, hands on his hips. "A genuine compliment from Damian Wayne?" He leaned toward him just a bit as his tone turned teasing. "Don't tell me you're goin' soft on me."

Damian's eyebrow arched as his arms crossed. "Wouldn't dream of it. As I said, credit where credit is due."

"Uh huh." Jason sobered up a bit at the sudden look in his eye.

Dami's eyes searched his face for a bit, his tone serious and pensive. "You may not have the experience, or the knowledge, or the _maturity_ …"

Jason almost snorted at _that_ one.

"…but you have the training…and the _potential_ to become something truly great." At Jason's dumbstruck expression, he was quick to add, "Not tonight…but perhaps someday."

They held each other's gazes for a while longer before turning to go their separate ways.

"Good night, brother."

Jason looked over his shoulder to meet his brother's green eyes. "Good night, Dami."

…

As he stepped out of the shower and slumped beneath the covers, Jason's mind ran over the whole of his day. A glance at the clock revealed it was just before midnight, and with a groan he realized he'd have to be up in just over six hours. He slowly rolled over to face the ceiling, his mind replaying some of Lindsey and Damian's last words to him as his eyes slipped shut.

 _"You're my knight in shining armor."_

 _"You have the training…"_

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"…and the_ potential _…"_

 _"Thank you, Knight."_

 _"…to become something truly great."_

 _"Thank you for bringing my family home."_

 _"Not tonight…but perhaps someday."_

Jason's eyes opened to lock onto a spot shaped vaguely like a star on his ceiling, a trick of the way the plaster had dried that he'd loved to muse about as a kid. He smiled widely.

 _No…not tonight._

He glanced at his clock and once again groaned at the time as he rolled over and turned out the lights before faceplanting into his pillows.

 _Maybe tomorrow._

* * *

AN: And that concludes the first case file. I hope you enjoyed this opening arc for the _Tomorrow Knight_. More to come soon, if I can keep my streak going. After eight months of no inspiration, having this much come to me so quickly is…well it's encouraging, so I hope I can keep going. Can't really think of anything to add at the moment, so I'll leave you all to process this chapter. I'm going to bed. Night all.

Drake out.

P.S.: I'll explain what happened with Jason's gauntlets next chapter.

Musical Inspirations:

Batman: Gotham Knight  
\- Killer Croc/Hallucinations/Scarecrow Interrupted: 1:03-1:48—getting the Markans to the door/locked door/exchange with C-Lion, 1:48-2:00—"we'll laugh about this"/punching the door, 2:00-2:09—breaking the first door, 2:09-end—glare at the camera/one-man army/shockwave;  
\- Escape and End: start-0:56—Robin and the Markans flee the building, 0:56-1:12—Jason's intervention/"smile", 1:12-end—"Who are you?"/the Knight takes off


	5. A Royal Wedding, Part I

Two weeks passed by in a blur of activity on all sides. The attempted assassination of Bruce and Diana at the rehearsal had sent the media into a feeding frenzy, leading them to dig into the background of both bride and groom to see who would have taken a shot at them. Between their humanitarian efforts—at home and abroad—and fierce competition in the global tech market, Wayne Enterprises had its fair share of enemies. As figurehead and CEO, that would make Bruce Wayne the number one target. At least, this was the narrative Bruce and Lucius Fox tried their hardest to push.

Having the media look too close at Diana's end would raise some uncomfortable questions that could lead to Jason's existence being exposed too early, though that was nothing compared to the nuclear fallout that would occur should her true identity be exposed. Fortunately, Bruce had friends in journalism besides Clark and Lois. Though not on his payroll, Vicki Vale and Bruce Wayne had always shared an understanding and mutual desire to make Gotham a better place, first as billionaire playboy, then—having deduced his identity—as Batman. Granted, her desire was pushed at least in part by a pathological need for attention and recognition, but she did good work so he allowed it.

Didn't make it any less annoying when he had to bail her out of trouble—usually as Batman—because she got too close to a story.

It was because of this relationship that he invited her to Wayne Manor for a private, off-books interview that he made her swear not to release until after the wedding, which would be held at the house the following night. The timed non-disclosure agreement he had her sign in addition was just a formality. When the redhead strode through the double doors of the main residence, Alfred was there to greet her and take her coat. He ushered her into Bruce's home office to find the man himself lounging in comfortable khakis and a button-down shirt with two buttons out. He was typing something on his laptop, eyes briefly flickering up to meet hers as he silently ushered her into a seat on the other side of his desk.

Used to his laser focus, Vicki took a seat and quietly observed him and the room, noting that the curtains at his back were drawn, allowing an almost blinding amount of sunlight to shine through. She might've thought that was odd if she hadn't been following the development of his relationship with Diana Prince so closely. That man—and his house—had been in desperate need of a woman's touch for _years_ , and now that there was, it showed. Bruce finished up typing something on his computer before hitting a key to put it to sleep and flipping it closed. He stood and leaned over partway to extend his hand with a small smile.

"Vicki," he greeted, "thank you for coming."

She shook his hand and smiled back. "Happy to be here. I was hoping you'd give me a call." They both sat again as she pulled out a notepad and audio recorder. "Been a busy couple weeks around here."

Bruce let out a long breath. "Been a busy couple _months_."

Vicki smiled wider. "Bruce Wayne, getting hitched…" her head shook slowly, "never thought I'd see the day."

His lips quirked a bit before his expression suddenly sobered. "I actually didn't call you here to talk about the wedding."

She blinked and stared at him. "Okay?"

"Well…" his head tilted slightly, "not quite."

Vicki clicked her pen and turned on the recorder. "I'm all ears."

Bruce leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the desk and looking down in thought. His lips were pursed tightly, as if he was considering what he was about to tell her like a live bomb. When his eyes snapped to hers, his tone was almost resigned. "I have a son."

Vicki blinked and arched an eyebrow. "Yes, I know. In fact, the whole _world_ knows. Damian, right?"

His head shook silently.

"…he's not your—"

"No, he is." Bruce pursed his lips again. "He's just not the only one."

Vicki stared at him. " _Oh_." Shaking her head to snap out of her brief shock, she began scribbling and nodded to him. "Go on."

Bruce leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath. "About sixteen years ago, I was traveling abroad, as most people now know. My trips took me everywhere from Africa to India to the Himalayas, where I met a number of different people and formed various relationships…some of which have lasted _years_."

She pointed the butt of her pen at him with an inquisitive tilt of the head. "And you met one that caught your eye."

Bruce cracked a smile. "She did." He smiled wider. "She still does."

Vicki snorted. "I don't think your fiancé would appreciate being the _other_ woman in your life."

He fixed her with an unblinking stare. "She isn't."

About three full seconds passed and _then_ it all sunk into place. " _Oh_ …so…you and Ms. Prince…"

His head shook a bit. "The past three years weren't the first time we were together." He looked off to the side in memory. "Back then, it was just for a night. But…" his smile faded, "it was enough."

"She got pregnant."

A nod.

Vicki frowned. "Did she tell you?"

"Yes. As soon as she found out."

She shrugged. "Then…where was the kid all these years?"

"Foreign soil. As everyone knows, Diana Prince was a world-traveling humanitarian before moving to Gotham."

"Right."

"It was decided that she would be best equipped to take care of him, given my…unstable nature back then, though I provided my support and the occasional visit. I tried to keep in contact as much as possible over the years without drawing too much attention by coordinating my visits with overseas business trips."

Vicki's lips pursed. "And where is he now that Ms. Prince lives with you?"

As if on cue, the door to the office clicked open, and Vicki turned her head to see a tall black-haired teen with olive skin step through.

"You called?" he asked, eyes on Bruce.

"Yes," Bruce answered, standing up and striding to meet him halfway. He put a hand on his arm and waved toward Vicki. "Jason, I'd like you to meet Vicki Vale, Gotham Gazette."

The redhead stood and smiled as the young newcomer shook her hand. "Good to meet you."

His grip was just as hard as his father's, and the look in his deep blue eyes as he observed her was…well, unsettling wasn't quite right. "Likewise," he replied after a second or two, releasing her hand.

Jason took a seat next to hers while Bruce sat back at his desk.

"I understand you're a new arrival to Gotham," said Vicki.

"That's right," the kid answered. "I just got here a few weeks ago. Been pretty hectic, trying to get all the odds and ends sorted out."

She frowned curiously and crossed one leg over the other. "Like what?"

"Well, school for one. London is a far cry from Gotham, so making sure my studies are up-to-date was a bit of a pain."

"I see." Vicki scribbled a few notes. "If you don't mind me asking, what was it like growing up without Bruce around, for the most part? Did you know he was your father?"

Jason blinked and nodded. "Mom made no secret of that. In fact, she made it a point to teach me where I came from, in all respects."

She frowned a bit, casting Bruce a glance. "It couldn't have been easy though, having an absentee father."

He smiled and shrugged. "Well, it's not like his visits were the only contact we had. Phones and Skype helped to bridge a lot of those gaps." His smile faded a bit. "Granted, I'd have liked to see him in person more than once or twice a year, but I learned early on that Gotham City is as much his baby as I am."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Vicki glanced at Bruce again, whose features were a carefully schooled mask of neutrality.

Jason blinked and stared at the ground for a bit. "Yes, it does." He looked up to meet her eyes. "But I've always admired him for his convictions. And it isn't like he's just been a glorified sperm donor."

Vicki caught Bruce arch an eyebrow in her peripheral vision.

"In the ways he knew how, he's always been my father."

"But you only came to Gotham _recently_ , despite the fact that he's adopted and even sired other children."

Jason waved dismissively. "That all happened later, and by then being with Mom was my normal."

"Yet according to his age, your half-brother Damian was born just a little earlier than you, and he's been in Gotham for years."

His features tensed. "Damian was a special case; _his_ mother turned out to be an abusive psychopath and clearly unfit parent. She abandoned him to chase a toxic dream."

Vicki frowned and cast Bruce a long look before returning her attention to Jason and bracing herself. "So what you're saying is that Bruce only took responsibility and custody for Damian because he was given no other choice."

She could _feel_ Bruce's tension from across the room, but Jason took a deep breath and tightened his jaw before replying.

"First off, Damian was unknown to Dad for most of his life. Unlike my mother, _his_ deliberately concealed his existence from our father and dropped him in Dad's lap out of the blue when he became _inconvenient_ for her." Jason's voice dripped with venom. "If I knew where she was, I'd give that woman a piece of my mind." His lips twitched with a smirk. "Fortunately, _my_ mother already did." He leaned forward, maintaining intense eye contact with her. "If you're asking me if I'm jealous of my brothers and sister, the answer is no. My father doesn't play favorites, and truth be told, coming to Gotham now was _my_ decision."

Vicki bit her lower lip. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I felt the need to grow a thicker skin first. Especially when Damian's existence was revealed to the public, and I saw how the media hounded him."

She nodded slowly. "I see." A few scribbles later, she met his eyes. "I think I understand. Now that you're here, how do you like the city?"

Jason smirked. "I wish I could say I had stronger feelings, but honestly, if you've seen one city, you've seen 'em all. Now, _this_ place on the other hand…" he motioned to their immediate surroundings, "this took a little getting used to—in a good way." He chuckled. "For the first week, I basically had to leave breadcrumbs for myself to avoid getting lost."

Vicki smiled and scribbled in her notebook. "So what are your plans now that the family's all together?"

He shrugged and smiled. "Don't know. Try to establish a new normal, I guess. The last couple weeks have been helpful in that regard, but fifteen years is a long time to make a habit. It's gonna be weird not hopping all over the globe."

"I can imagine." She took down a last few notes, then racked her brain for anything else amid the swirl of information she hadn't been expecting. "Well, I think I have everything I need for now." Vicki stood up and shook his hand with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I grilled you like that, but these are the kinds of questions that'll be floating around once you go public."

Jason nodded and smiled. "I understand. You're just doing your job." He shrugged and smiled wider. "Besides, if I couldn't take a little stress, then my skin didn't get nearly as thick as I'd hoped."

"Right," she laughed.

Jason cleared his throat and patted his pockets. "Now, if that's all guys," he jerked a thumb at the door, "I have homework to get back to."

Bruce nodded and strode over to him. "Of course. Thank you, Jason."

They embraced briefly before Jason left the room, closing the door behind him. Vicki stared at the door for a few seconds before turning off her audio recorder and tucking it and her notebook into her purse. When that was all squared away, she sighed and turned to Bruce with a firm look.

"Okay, so, off the record…what's really going on here?"

Bruce arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Vicki placed her hands on her hips. "Bruce, we both know you didn't meet Diana sixteen years ago."

He shrugged. "Any research you perform will say otherwise."

She huffed and shook her head. "Of course it will." A small frown creased her lips. "Bruce, seriously, where did this kid come from?"

Bruce's lips pursed tightly. "It's complicated, Vicki." He sighed and sat back down, running a hand through his hair. "Di and I are still figuring it out ourselves."

"But he _did_ just show up out of nowhere."

"Not nowhere, but his arrival was wholly unexpected." Bruce nodded at the door. "He isn't the only one who's had to adapt to a new normal."

"How are you holding up?"

He stared at his desk pensively for a while before responding. "A few years ago, this situation would already have been resolved…but in a way that would probably have done more harm than good."

Vicki arched an eyebrow. "That didn't answer the question."

Bruce blinked and met her eyes. "As well as can be expected. It isn't as if this is the first time I've accepted someone new into my life."

"Maybe not, but when it comes to raising kids, there will always be variations that make things difficult. There is no practice makes perfect."

He huffed a small laugh and stood, ambling for the door. "True, but just acknowledging that gives me an advantage."

Vicki followed him down the steps, a smirk playing over her lips. "So, this new 'Knight' character I heard about two weeks ago…"

"I can neither confirm nor deny—"

"Yep, thought so." She smiled and faced him as Alfred held the exit door for her. "At any rate," she held out her hand, "always a pleasure, Mr. Wayne."

He smiled back politely and shook her hand. "Likewise, Ms. Vale. Drive safely."

…

Bruce watched her pull off, then released a long sigh as the door shut.

"So how'd it go?"

He turned to Jason, who was lying across the rail at the top of the steps and reading something. "As well as can be expected." Bruce strode toward the steps and began to climb. "We can count on her discretion."

"Hm," was his only reply.

Bruce glanced at Jason, realizing that he was precariously balanced on the rail—or actually floating just above it. He stared for just a second before shaking his head and sighing his way into his office. Moments after sitting at his desk, he was staring into infinity, mind racing. The door clicked open after a while to permit Alfred, who was holding a steaming cup.

"Tea, sir?"

Bruce met his eyes and nodded, motioning to an empty space on his desk. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir."

"Alfred," he said carefully, "what's your take on Jason?"

The portly Brit eyed him curiously. "In what regard?"

Bruce leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Temperament, mostly. You've always been an excellent judge of character, and I'm afraid I might be slightly biased."

Alfred hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "He carries a great rage inside. It rarely slips out in an overt manner, such as when he confronted that Iles character."

Bruce nodded, remembering clearly. They'd placed a minicam in the winged emblem on Jason's armor just before the Lindsey Markan incident specifically to observe how he performed under pressure. Until he'd donned it, however, they'd had to rely on the one in Robin's mask to keep track of them.

"At all other times," Alfred continued, "it simmers just under the surface, though he does an excellent job of concealing it with humor and sarcasm…not unlike Master Grayson, I might add."

Another slow nod. "What else?"

Alfred frowned. "He carries a severe mistrust for Master Damian. I cannot see the reasoning behind this, given he is from the future; but if I had to wager a guess, I'd say there is some trauma from his past related to his half-brother."

Bruce's lips pursed. "I can tell he's trying to hide it, but there's only so much he can do to suppress his resentment."

"Seems to be a common trait among the Wayne men."

He frowned. "Unfortunately."

"Have you discussed this with Miss Prince?"

Bruce nodded and opened his laptop. "She thinks he just needs time. I hope so."

"But you disagree."

"I just don't know what to do about it, or if there's anything we _can_ do. No matter how you look at it, Jason has us at a disadvantage: we don't have enough history with him to be sure of his intentions or predispositions."

Alfred clasped his hands behind his back. "Whatever the case, if you and Diana truly raised him, I have no doubt he'll make the right decision in the end."

Bruce smiled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, old friend, but at this point only time will tell."

…

An hour later, Jason was down in the Batcave cleaning his armor when he noticed something tucked just under the seal of his emblem. His face dropped, and he rolled his eyes when he identified the minicam and held it up high.

"You planted a camera in my suit?"

From her seat at the Batcomputer, Diana looked over at him and tilted her head slightly. "We wanted to see what you'd do given a vexing problem, and you didn't disappoint."

Jason huffed and strode over to a nearby workbench with his armor. "How would you like it if I bugged _your_ suit?"

She sighed. "Jason, we're parents. It's our job to worry about you. Damian's suit has multiple sensors built into it to monitor his vitals and location, as well as a camera in his mask that records everything he sees."

"Yeah, but he _knows_ about them."

"Now so do you."

Jason sighed and gave up on fighting her, pulling several armor plates off the undersuit of his uniform. He frowned at the tears and score-marks on the damaged plates, as well as the holes in the undersuit. Not one major defect had been caused by his outing a few weeks back. Without his anger to blind him, he realized just how underprepared he'd been to face Cheetah. As he used a nearby tablet to scan the damaged pieces, he began putting together 3D projections of the duplicates he'd need to replace them. He attached a note to the file with the specific formula needed to manufacture them and logged it away as a fabrication order.

Diana got up and sidled up next to him, frowning at his armor and staring at the gauntlets in particular. "Speaking of your suit, there's something I've been meaning to ask."

He glanced at her. "About what?"

She reached down and lifted one of his bracers. "These. They aren't Bracelets of Submission."

His head shook. He froze for a second when he got where she was going. "You want to know how I pulled off that shockwave."

She nodded.

"Well," he drawled, reaching over to toss the plates in a recycling bin, "Bracelets of Submission can never be bound to a male—plus I don't think I have that power of yours anyway—so Damian had an idea to give it to me artificially." He picked up the other gauntlet. "The bracers are made of volatile Promethium, a version of the metal that can absorb a nearly infinite amount of energy without taking any adverse effects."

Diana frowned. "Isn't that toxic?"

"Normally, yes, which is why the undersuit has a shielding layer woven into the gauntlet portion. The other effect is that it's damn near indestructible and allows me to store and charge the bracers with any form of energy thrown at me. Once that absorption reaches a critical threshold, the gauntlets start to shimmer, then glow. After that threshold, a hard-enough impact against each other creates a feedback loop that causes the bracers to reemit the energy outward." He laid the gauntlet back down and nodded toward the Batcomputer. "In the case of that fight, it was all kinetic energy. Thus, the shockwave."

"I see. Very clever on Damian's part."

Jason smirked as he fine-tuned the dimensions of his replacement parts. "He has a good idea every now and then."

Diana smiled. "You two work well together."

He snorted and carried his armor back to its case. "I guess, though it's not like I want to make it a regular thing. I don't think I'd have the patience for that."

"It does take a special mental fortitude to handle his attitude," Diana conceded with a smile as she retook her seat at the computer.

"For anything the reemission doesn't break…"

He tapped a control on one of the gloves, sending a trio of arm-blades snapping out from the main body of the bracer.

"…I have these."

Diana hummed and nodded in approval before returning her attention to the computer. She frowned at something she saw, and Jason glanced over to see the case file he'd compiled on Lindsey Markan.

Jason snorted a laugh. "That actually went in the permanent database?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Of course it did. You and Damian successfully rescued an entire family from a notorious drug dealer while toppling his operation in the process."

His lips pursed. "Plus it probably doesn't hurt that he'll roll over on Black Mask given the right incentive."

"Exactly." Diana blinked and frowned a bit. "Though I have to wonder…why _did_ you take the case?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't have?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Not at all, I'm just wondering…"

Jason blinked. "You want to know why I'm taking such an active role in this time."

Diana pursed her lips. "It does seem odd that someone as conscientious as you would take such overt action. I'd have thought you'd try to limit your impact on the timeline as much as possible."

He shrugged and pushed himself up to sit on a table. "That _was_ the plan."

"Was? What happened?"

Jason faced her dead-on. " _You_ did, when you stopped me from killing Cheetah." He sighed hard and looked off to the side. "This was supposed to be quick and simple. Get in, take her out, go back to my time." A shrug. "Or just vanish, as the case may be."

She looked less than happy about that last bit.

"Besides," he added, "subtlety went out the window as soon as you and Dad decided to publicly make me a Wayne heir."

Her arms crossed. "We didn't hear you complaining."

"Because the window to minimize my impact had vanished the moment you hogtied me and forced me to say my name." Jason frowned. "I realized that to accomplish my mission, I would need to stay much longer than I'd originally intended, and barring locking myself down _here_ forever—which would not have ended well—integrating myself into your lives was my only option." His eyes darkened. "Besides…the whole point of all this was to fix the future." His gaze met hers intensely. "And you and Dad not being there isn't the only thing wrong with it."

Jason fell silent after that, and apparently sensing he wouldn't say anything more, so did Diana. A good five minutes passed before Jason made for the elevator, leaving behind a Batcave that was silent save for the clicking of keys and periodic drip of water.

…

The night of the wedding, Tim Drake found himself unsuccessfully fussing over a black bowtie. A pair of slender but very toned arms slipped around his midsection to fix it for him. He smirked, turning in place once the tie was set to face his shorter helper. He blinked in surprise when instead of long blonde hair, he was faced with a short bob of jet-black hair framing a pair of focused almond eyes.

His eyes widened a bit. "Cass? When did you get back?"

"This afternoon," she replied softly. "I would've been here earlier, but my flight was delayed."

Tim huffed and smiled teasingly. "You should've taken Bruce's offer for a private jet." He took a step back to look her over. "East Asia's been good to you," he smiled crookedly, reaching out to pinch her cheek a bit, "though Di's gonna insist you're not eating enough."

Cassandra sighed and cracked a tiny smile. "She _always_ fusses over us." She reached out to smooth out Tim's tux. "How are they? I haven't had the chance to really look at them yet."

Tim sighed. "Nervous, but excited nervous, from what I can tell. They've been looking forward to this all year."

"I should hope so."

"Though…there has been a…minor complication."

Cass frowned and met his eyes. "You mean the time traveler?"

"I take it they told you?"

She nodded.

Tim scratched his head and sighed hard. "Yeah…that's a whole other mess I don't even want to _think_ about right now. What little time I've spent with him he's spent explaining tidbits about the future and himself. Not a lot of context to get a read on him, but then you've always been better at that than me." A smirk. "If only just a little."

Cassandra arched an eyebrow and hummed with a smile. "So, how has Blüdhaven been treating _you_?"

Tim sighed and shrugged. "As well as can be expected."

Tim and Cass strode out the door into a long hallway on the second floor of the manor as they talked.

"Working with Dick full-time instead of Bruce is…different."

"Good different or bad different?"

He shook his head uncertainly. "Not sure. Just different. If it had been a few years ago, before Diana…I might've thought otherwise, but she's really mellowed him out."

Cass huffed. "As mellow as he can get, anyhow."

"Yeah," Tim laughed as they reached the stop of a staircase. "You see anyone else on your way in?"

She put on an innocent air. "Who, me? No, no one. No one of note, anyway. And certainly not a particular blonde."

Tim shot her a look.

Cass just kept walking down the steps, a smile tugging at her lips. "Long-distance relationships have always been a problem with you two, haven't they?"

He sighed hard. "Damn if _that_ isn't the truth. Still, I think we're both in a better place now than we were then. _She_ is, certainly."

"Hm. Has she given any thought to where she'll be going after graduation?"

"A bit, yeah. Most of Steph's top choices are in or around Gotham, so it shouldn't be too big of a change for either of us. Still…" he frowned, "I worry the distance between us is only gonna get bigger…emotionally, at least."

She frowned. "How so?"

"I don't know. I get that she wants to focus on herself as a person before even considering getting back into the 'family business,' but…a part of me feels like she'll never be ready to come back."

"Would that really be such a bad thing?"

"…no. I guess I just feel like she could be applying her talents in the immediate rather than four years down the line."

Cass arched a raven eyebrow. "Hm. Not like you to be so impatient, Tim. You sure there's nothing else bothering you?"

Tim's lips pursed tightly, his head shaking a few moments later. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just…a lot happening right now. First the Blockbuster incident, then Deathstroke returns—which screws with Dick's head like no one's business—and now this Jason kid." He frowned. "As if dealing with _one_ homicidal Jason wasn't enough." He glanced over at Cass. "Did you see _him_ on the way in?"

Her lips pursed with a shake of her head. "If he's around, he's keeping a low profile."

"Like that's ever stopped you."

"If he's telling the truth about where he's from, then he's undoubtedly known all of us for years. How we think, how we operate—"

"Between his knowledge of the future and who his parents are, he could be more dangerous than any one of us."

Cass tilted her head. "I wouldn't go _that_ far."

"Eh…yeah, you're right. He doesn't have much of a track record, but what we have seen is…promising." He frowned. "More so than Damian when he first arrived, anyhow."

She snorted. "That particular assessment is unsurprising, considering how often you two _still_ fight like cats and dogs."

"One of many reasons I'm glad to have moved." Tim smirked. "For the record, I'm the dog in this analogy, yes?"

"You certainly _bark_ like one."

As they approached the main hall selected as the wedding venue, their conversation petered out and they prepared to join the bulk of guests.

Tim sighed hard as he placed a hand on one of the double-doors. "Here we go."

They both pushed through in tandem, stepping forth into a tittering din of guests, servers, and reporters.

…

"Are you sure this is okay?"

The question elicited a completely incredulous stare from two onlookers, an appraising stare from another, and small giggles from the final two.

One of the women giving the incredulous stare put her hands on her hips, her long brunette hair shuffling over her shoulder. "Di, you're kidding right?"

The other one exchanged a look with the first before snorting and crossing her arms defensively. "No, she has a point." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "What were we _thinking_ when we helped her pick this dress?"

Diana rolled her eyes and huffed. "Not helping, Shayera."

Dinah chuckled and shook her head. "Seriously, princess, you're gonna be fine. _Better_ than fine. Pretty sure you could be wearing a burlap sack and he'd still think you were the most beautiful woman in the world."

"As will most everyone else in the room," Lois added with a hint of annoyance.

Diana sighed and directed her attention to the two who hadn't spoken yet. "Kara, Barbara—I feel like these two are kissing up to me."

Shayera threw her hands up. "What about _anything_ I just said sounded like kissing up?"

Barbara threw her a cheeky grin. "You sounded jealous, therefore it counted as a backhanded compliment."

She stared at the redhead in disbelief.

Kara looked Diana over carefully, a small frown of focus on her face. "Well," she chewed her lower lip, "apart from the splitting seam around the shoulder, you look great."

Diana blinked and looked. "What? Where?"

She blinked rapidly with a dismissive wave. "Oh, it's nothing. It's on the inside." She smiled reassuringly. "Should be fine for the rest of the night."

The rest of the bridal party stared at her, bride included.

Kara chuckled uneasily and reached into her purse to pull out a travel kit for sewing. "Just let me—"

Diana helped Kara adjust the shoulder strap to expose the damaged section in question, then stood there in awkward silence as she set about patching it up.

"So…" Shayera began quietly, "are we just gonna ignore the elephant in the room?"

Diana arched an eyebrow at her. "And what would that be?"

"The new groomsman." Shayera sighed. "I get wanting to be close to your kid, but having him out in public like this is…" she frowned, "well had I found myself in the same position and made that choice, I'd have gotten the riot act."

"We _did_ , in case you forgot."

"All I'm saying is, I don't think the rest of the League would've caved so easily had it been anyone else."

Diana frowned as the room fell silent again, thinking back to the past weeks. Explaining Jason to the Justice League had been…harrowing, to say the least. And that was before they mentioned that he'd be staying in the present. Strangely enough, the Flash was the least vocal opposer, despite his own misadventures with time travel. He did, however, caution against getting too attached to the person they were in the moment and leave room for the person they would become in the future. He'd had some experience with his kids and grandkids, after all. And that was before Dawn and Don had been born.

The twins were coming on two years old now, as lively and healthy as ever—and driving Iris absolutely up the wall.

In the end, it had been agreed—as Jason had already—that he could remain in the present for as long as it took to fulfill his mission, then return to the future where he belonged; just as Bart Allen had over a year previous. None of them wanted to broach the possibility that once his mission was complete, there might not be a future for him to return to. At least, not a future where he existed. They'd cross that bridge when they reached it.

As Kara snapped the excess thread from the dress and smoothed out the strap, she smiled and nodded to Diana. "Good as new. Just don't make any sudden movements and you should be fine."

"I suppose I should count myself lucky I'm a smooth dancer," Diana replied as she eyed her reflection once more.

"I'd meant to ask," Lois said suddenly, "is your mom coming?"

Diana blinked and frowned. "Honestly, I never invited her."

"You didn't think she'd want to be here?" Lois queried uneasily.

Her lips pursed. "She's never approved of my choice to stay with Bruce. Learned to accept it, yes, but…seeing it come to fruition…it just feels like it'd be a slap to the face."

"Does she at least _know_ you're getting married?" Dinah asked.

Diana nodded. "I'm not so cruel as to spring that on her after the fact. I just…didn't feel like inviting the drama it'd cause to have her here."

"Ugh," Lois groaned, "family drama. Gotta love it."

Mentally setting that topic of discussion aside for another day, Diana checked the clock in the prep room and let out a long breath to calm herself. "You should all start getting out there. The ceremony will begin any minute now."

Dinah got up first and kissed her on the cheek. "Good luck, sister."

Lois smirked and hugged Diana. "Try not to sweat through the dress."

Shayera chuckled as she followed the other bridesmaids out. "The princess _never_ sweats." She glanced at Diana over her shoulder with a conspiratorial wink. "She _glistens_."

Diana rolled her eyes and shook her head with a small smile, taking one last look in the mirror before resigning herself to wait on Alfred.

…

Finding Stephanie in the crowd of disguised League members, reporters, and servers proved to be more than a bit of a chore for Tim. Given the size of the ceremony hall and surrounding rooms, he was hardly surprised he couldn't pick out one blonde head of hair from the rest of the throng. _He_ , on the other hand, proved rather easy to find for an unnecessarily obnoxious relative.

A pair of strong arms attached to a slightly taller body hugged him tightly from behind. "Timmy! How ya doing?"

He rolled his eyes and turned around to hug his attacker back, giving him a light push to break things up. "Caden; I didn't know Bruce invited you."

The taller man grinned. "As if I wouldn't have come anyway."

Tim shrugged and smiled. "True. How is Star City treating you so far? I heard you took a new job."

Caden's jovial expression faltered for a split-second before he waved dismissively. "It's no biggie. A few weeks of adaptation to the new premise, and I was good to go."

He frowned a little. "Must be weird, stepping into Ollie's shoes."

At that, his smile vanished entirely, a cold look in his eyes. "It's temporary."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Caden looked off to the side. "I have a plan to get him out. It'll take some time, but I'm certain it'll work."

Tim nodded slowly. "I'm glad. Just remember to take a breather every now and then."

He fixed Tim with a suspicious look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tim's arms crossed. "I know you, Cade. I know what happens when you get too caught up in your work; it tends to border on _obsession_."

Caden snorted. "You're making me sound like _him_ ," he countered with a nod at Bruce, who was talking to his best man.

Tim frowned. "Maybe him a few _years_ ago." He smirked and rapped his knuckles against the other man's chest. "You need to get yourself a girlfriend."

His hard expression vanished with a chuckle as he put an arm around Tim's shoulders. "It's sweet and all that you're worried about me, but seriously—stop. My kid cousin has enough on his plate."

Tim's eyes rolled. "Why is it that I'm always the 'kid' cousin and not just cousin?"

"Because," he said, escorting him toward the gathered groomsmen, "as your elder, it's my responsibility to look out for you." He grinned. "And make sure you never forget it," he added with a poke of Tim's cheek.

Tim brushed his hand off with mild irritation and gently disengaged himself from his uncharacteristically exuberant cousin. Caden remained grinning as they approached Bruce and the others. Bruce turned to face the two Drakes when they got within two arm-spans. His eyes immediately locked onto Caden's smiling features, briefly sweeping over his outfit—an Italian-style three-button tuxedo—before he nodded curtly.

"Drake," Bruce said in greeting.

"Bruce," he replied, holding out his hand.

Bruce shook Caden's hand briefly, as did Barry and Dick. Clark and Damian notably avoided doing the same. He didn't take offense.

Caden stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around searchingly. "Where's the new kid?"

Bruce blinked and turned a firm look on Tim.

Tim held his hands up innocently. "Don't look at _me_ ; I didn't say a word."

His lips pursed as he looked back to Caden. "Not sure. He should be here soon; he was a last-minute addition to the groomsmen. His idea."

Clark smiled and adjusted his glasses. "I guess he picked up your tendency of being fashionably late, Bruce."

"Hopefully not late enough to walk down the aisle with his mother," said Damian.

Caden pointed at him briefly. "Aaaand _that's_ my last question answered."

Damian blinked and glared at him briefly before crossing his arms and turning away.

Dick looked at the elder Drake curiously. "How _did_ you know?"

"The news, two weeks ago. New player in Gotham being _assisted_ by Robin." He shrugged. "If that wasn't enough, the armor was a dead giveaway."

The group fell silent as a cluster of journalists passed by, their cameras flashing and getting several shots of the groomsmen.

Bruce sidled up next to Tim and leaned down, his voice lowered. "We're running down the clock; see if you can find Jason."

Tim nodded and strode off. "You got it."

…

Unbeknownst to the rest of the wedding party—even his own parents—Jason had spent practically the entire day in the Batcave. And was still down there, typing away at the keyboard. Eyeing the time nervously, he continued to type feverishly, eyes darting back and forth over the screen. On the left-hand monitor was a statistical algorithm that had been running for the past two hours processing over forty variables and likely scenarios. On the right was a live feed of the manor and surrounding grounds courtesy of his father's paranoid streak, including the wedding hall itself, which was getting more and more crowded by the second.

The central console was what held his attention most: a detailed file listing dates, events, and approximate times of occurrence. Despite his original intentions, Jason hadn't laid all his hopes for saving his parents on his success the night of his arrival. As such, he brought a little help from the future: an historical record of this time and the years following, focusing specifically on the Wayne and Bat families. Because of the potential danger of having that information exposed to anyone from the present, he'd encoded it on a drive that required a two-part key to function.

The first part was the drive itself, which had the finest encryptions 2033 had to offer, and would self-destruct if anyone ever tried to force their way in. The second part was an adapter that allowed it to interface with present-day technology and left no trace of anything it read in whatever system was used to interface. The DNA lock on the file added an extra layer of security and required a small sample of his blood to open every time he viewed it. The record for this particular night had been something he'd mulled over for the past two weeks, trying to figure out what to do. Though his intent was to change the future, the extent to which he was willing to do so was…debatable.

Certain things were simply _meant_ to happen.

With any luck, though, his interference tonight would have minimal negative impact on the timeline—and hopefully avert a disaster in the future. Another quick glance at the time sent his heart skipping a beat. A beep from the left-hand console caught his attention, and a predatory smile spread over his features as he made preparations to leave. He closed down the file and wiped the Batcomputer's memory of the session before resetting the workplace to the way it was before he'd gone down. He made for his armor chamber next and emerged moments later in full regalia. The Batwing's exit hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, permitting him exit as he took off into the night sky, unaware that the arriving elevator at his back bore two occupants.

…

"You sure you're okay to be away?" Tim asked. "You _are_ a bridesmaid."

"I could say the same for you." Cassandra gave him a small smile. "It'll be fine. Besides, I'm the only one in the family who still hasn't met him."

When the elevator's doors slid open, they strode out together and approached the Batcomputer. Tim keyed it on and checked the computer's access logs for any recent data. Cass, on the other hand, began surveying the rest of the cave for anything out of place. She stopped short when she approached Jason's armor chamber, frowning at it and snapping her fingers to get Tim's attention.

"This wasn't here the last time I was home."

Tim nodded. "Bruce had it installed two weeks ago. It's Jason's."

"It's _empty_."

He froze at the keys and cursed under his breath as his fingers went on overdrive. "Oh for the love of—what is he _thinking_?"

Cass hurried back to him. "What?"

He nodded at the central screen. "Bruce put a half-dozen trackers in his suit, plus two minicams to keep an eye on him."

" _Two_ cameras?"

Tim smirked. "He figured Jason'd rip out the first one when he found it. He did." He'd accessed the tracker and camera functions, the latter taking a while to come up but the former showing him that Jason was hovering just inside the treeline of the forest surrounding Wayne Manor. "There he is."

"He isn't moving."

"Yeah, I know." Tim tried to access the camera again, to no effect. "I could try to call him on comms."

Her head shook. "If he's gone out there without telling anyone, he obviously doesn't want to be found. Contacting him now will spook him."

"I just wish the camera would—" Tim stopped short when the feed finally came up, though it took a few seconds to resolve properly. When it did, the feed showed only the treetops and scant leaves rustling in the wind. "Let me switch to multispec."

When he did, it showed five mobile heat signatures further into the forest, at a lateral distance of about two-hundred meters from Jason's current position. The minicam didn't have the sensor and analysis functions of a WayneTech HUD, but a cursory glance alone was enough to determine that they were all armed.

Tim's blood ran cold. "I'll say it again: what the hell is he thinking?"

"There are no cameras out that far," Cass pointed out. "How did he know they were there?"

"I don't know, but I don't like this."

"Agreed. Whoever these intruders are, they appear to be targeting the wedding."

Tim pulled up a feed of the wedding hall. "And Bruce seems completely oblivious. He didn't assign Jason to stop them."

"From what little I've heard, he's a bit of a wild card. His actions certainly seem to play that out."

Tim's lips pursed as he glanced from the camera feed of the approaching intruders to the wedding hall and back. His eyes met Cassandra's a moment later. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She arched a black eyebrow. "Do you still have my spare in the usual place?"

He smirked and pushed away from the computer. "Wouldn't be home if we didn't."

…

Jason remembered very vividly the last time his heart was racing this fast. It was the night he time-jumped, when he faced down Cheetah for the first time. It was one thing to train against one of the greatest villains in all of history; quite another to look them in the eye with a sword in your hand and murder in your heart and realize how unprepared you really are. And now he faced not one, but _five_. All the same, he'd spent the better part of a year obsessively studying and training to survive in this time, using every means of preparation available to him…

…

 _"Again!"_

 _Despite numerous bruises and sore muscles, Jason hauled himself upright after spitting the command. Lacking his armor, he'd been progressively more susceptible to damage as the training session had continued. The training droids in the Batcave warmed up their holoprojectors once more, modifying their appearances and fighting styles to mimic past versions of Deadshot and Bane. The latter juiced up on venom while the former racked rounds into his wrist-mounted autocannons. Jason, for his part, took in his environment and planned out his attack as his mind ran at lightning speed._

 _He dashed sideways as Deadshot's first shots spat from his autocannons, the neural shock rounds missing him by inches as he weaved in and out of the surrounding flotsam. A few seconds in, he dashed between two empty crates only for one of them to shatter on contact with a much larger body that bear-hugged him from the side. Jason gasped in pain when he found himself planted back-first into the ground. He barrel-rolled away from Bane's follow-up stomp and kicked off the ground in an attempt to fly to safety. Bane caught his ankle and used his powerful hips to swing Jason headfirst into the ground._

 _Groaning in pain, Jason blinked rapidly to clear his vision, eyes widening when he saw Bane about to smash both fists into his face. He popped his hips upward, double-kicking Bane in the gut just before his hit landed and just managing to stun him. He got away this time, though his triumph was short-lived when a neural shock round nailed him in the right shoulder. Screaming, he plunged back to the ground and rolled away from a follow-up hailstorm of gunfire. He managed to put another crate between him and Deadshot as he planned his next move._

 _Bane wasn't about to give him the chance to recover._

 _When he bull-rushed the crate, Jason leapt straight upward and let him smash through. The wood splinters just managed to block his view long enough for Jason to plant a double-knee drop on both his shoulders. Bane roared in pain, swiping in the air in an attempt to grab Jason when he tried to yank out his Venom injector. Failing this, he picked up the remains of the shattered crate and hurled them at Jason's flying form while Deadshot took potshots at him from the opposite side. Jason's response was to fly higher, up into the shadows cast by the cave's stalactites._

 _Breathing heavily, he wiped the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead, scrambling for a new tactic as he picked at the neural round imbedded in his shoulder. Though it wasn't lethal, the head of WayneTech's proprietary neural shock round imbedded itself in its target to ensure maximum impact. It had been adopted by law enforcement as a replacement for tasers in Gotham for years, and unsurprisingly so. Jason gently pulled it out, holding back a groan as he flicked the round away from his body. His eyes widened when it pinged against a nearby stalactite, alarm shooting through his body when, without looking, he could_ feel _Deadshot zeroing in on him._

 _He lunged sideways to avoid the incoming rounds, which ricocheted off the rock and nearly struck him. A few imbedded themselves into the stalactites. Jason narrowed his eyes as they gave him an idea. Pulling one from the stone, he flicked it at a far spire, a faint_ ping _sounding in the distance. Deadshot opened up on that location a split-second later—exactly what Jason was waiting for. He dropped from the ceiling on the opposite end of the training room and, faster than the android could whirl around, clocked the holographic Deadshot in the head hard enough to send his mask flying off._

 _He hit the deck a moment later, unconscious, and the droid reverted to its standard mechanical form as it shut down. A savage roar from the side caught Jason's attention as Bane charged him shoulder-first. Jason managed to dive-roll out of the way just in time, whirling to face his much larger opponent as they paced around each other. Bane was the first to make a move, swinging at his head with a left hook that Jason dodged. His follow-up strike was a hip-driven haymaker with his right. Jason took a sharp breath and braced himself as he put both hands up to meet the larger, meatier one._

 _A pronounced_ smack _resounded through the training room a split-second later._

 _Bane's android's eyes widened behind his mask as he struggled against Jason, who had palmed his attacking fist with both hands. In the blink of an eye, Jason snapped his right hand to Bane's elbow while his left remained clenched around his fist. A shoulder-lunge to the gut and a twist of his hips later, and Bane was planted back-first on the ground. His prone position made him vulnerable to a rapid yanking of his Venom injector tube, as well as the torrent of rapid strikes to the face that followed as his body sagged with the steroid's dissipation. Twenty seconds later, it was over._

 _As the last holographic projection phased out of existence, Jason collapsed to his knees and breathed heavily. With a drawn-out groan, he shakily pushed himself upright and made his way back to the starting point._

 _With another couple of heavy breaths, he loudly uttered, "Again!"_

 _Another voice put a quick stop to that. "Override, Wayne-2032."_

 _Jason scowled a moment later, turning to face the new arrival. "Do you mind?"_

 _Damian returned a glare as he crossed his arms. "If you intend to work yourself to death, do it on your own dime."_

 _He sneered as he limped toward the exit. "What do_ you _care about money?"_

 _"I care that it's being wasted."_

 _Jason pulled a discarded grey hoodie from atop a crate near the door, then shoved past Damian as he strode out. "It's not a waste."_

 _"Based on what?" Damian waved toward the inactive androids. "Neither of them is a threat anymore."_

 _"And whose fault is_ that _?"_

 _"You're welcome."_

 _Jason glared. "It_ wasn't _a compliment."_

 _Damian sighed and followed behind him, hands tucked behind his back. "I know."_

 _Jason grabbed a towel from a cabinet near the training room and wiped his face and arms. "What do you want?"_

 _"This_ is _my house, you know."_

 _"If you're going to use the room, go ahead." He snorted. "I guess I'm done with it now."_

 _Damian's lips pursed tightly, his arms crossed. "I know why you tuned the androids to those two."_

 _Jason smirked. "Oh do you now?"_

 _"And to Silver Swan, Parasite, Hush…_ Cheetah _. Need I go on?"_

 _He fought the urge to shift uneasily. "Only if you'll get to the point."_

 _Damian's green eyes narrowed. "I found your research on the Cosmic Treadmill."_

 _Jason's calm façade shattered as all the color drained from his face. He gulped and licked his lips. "What about it?"_

 _"You intend to prevent father and Prince's assassination."_

 _Jason's jaw tightened, eyes hardened. "Yes I do."_

 _Damian blinked. "And there's no chance I can convince you out of this?"_

 _"None at all."_

 _A sigh. "I see. I would be remiss if I didn't warn you of the dangers of time travel—"_

 _"Save me the riot act, Dami. I've had this discussion with the Twins already."_

 _"And you're still going ahead with it?"_

 _"I am."_

 _"Tell me, if they couldn't survive against Minerva fighting together, what difference could you possibly make?"_

 _"That's my business."_

 _"It'll be your_ death _if you run into this blindly."_

 _"Why do you think I've been training so hard?" Jason frowned. "Besides…I wouldn't be going back to_ that _night."_

 _Damian's eyes widened. "Further? You'd risk compounding the resulting aberrations?"_

 _Jason smirked nastily, a snarl twitching at his lips. "For my parents' sake, I'd watch this whole damn_ world _burn." He turned away and made his way to the elevator, facing Damian as the doors began to slide closed. "And_ you _with it."_

…

Jason blinked rapidly as his mind dragged itself back to the present. The very thought of the memory set his teeth on edge, and he forced himself to relax as his multispec lenses picked up the five heat signatures moving through the forest below. Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly and pulled a cluster of smoke pellets from his belt, steeling himself for the fight ahead. With a roll of his shoulders and a tilt of his head, he descended on the unwanted guests with the rush of battle surging through his veins.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the long wait guys. School has been absolute murder lately. Plus I just switched majors and sorting that out has been the _biggest_ pain. Now that I'm back on the right track and things are cooling down a bit, I managed to pump out another chapter, one of two parts if I can keep this arc concise. Oh, who am I kidding?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter. It may or may not take a while to come out with the next part of this arc, depending on how much work I have and how much sleep I get. Hopefully this wasn't too much of a cliffhanger; I hate it when writers leave their readers at indefinite cliffhangers.

The more I write, the more I realize how rusty I am, and how much I'll have to work to get back into the swing of things. Can't afford to lose my edge with this story, so please let me know what you thought of this.

Drake out.


	6. A Royal Wedding, Part II

In all his years on the job, Floyd Lawton had played many roles. First as Deadshot, an assassin-for-hire that made his reputation on never missing a kill. That reputation took a significant hit after being beaten by the Batman and Green Arrow on multiple occasions. After a months-long stretch in maximum security, he was recruited by the shadiest of shady government agents, one Amanda Waller, to serve as part of the off-books Task Force X—or as its members knew it, the "Suicide Squad." That had been one hell of a ride that ended with a building exploding under him and him being presumed dead.

He might as well have been, given that he'd spent the following year in a Russian gulag. At the end of it all, the person responsible for his rescue—irony of ironies—was one of Batman's old partners…the one with less of an aversion to lead. The Hood had let him go on the condition that he stay away from Gotham City for the foreseeable future. Well, Lawton considered himself a man of his word, but he could never have foreseen the fat check that landed in his account just a few weeks before tonight. And that was just the starting bonus. The _real_ payday would come the day after and had several more zeroes attached to the end. The only catch?

He had to dress up like the other four shmucks who got the same job.

Now, he had nothing against poker; he considered himself quite good at it actually and had whiled away more than one boring day playing it. However, dressing up as an Ace of Hearts crossed a line of dignity that he thought he'd left behind with his days in the Squad. At least the color scheme let him keep his classic red and white. And the other newbie, the Jack of Spades, looked less than thrilled about it too. So why, given his difference of opinion with regard to fashion, was he messing around with the Royal Flush Gang? Because their anonymous backer had deep stores of intel and even deeper pockets.

The target was the wedding of one Bruce Wayne, the crown prince of Gotham. The goal? Rob every rich, entitled bastard and broad attending blind. At least, that was King's plan, and ostensibly the reason Deadshot took the job. However, pocketing high-society jewelry and wallets was bush league compared to his payoff, especially given how much of King's haul would be imbedded with tracking devices and as such would have extremely low turnover even with the most enterprising of fences. The _real_ payday was—

A sudden rustling snapped Deadshot's attention away from the path ahead to the tangled leaves above. Jack noticed as well, and the other three slowly came to a stop as a result. The telescopic lens built into Lawton's mask zoomed in on the most disturbed section of branches, trying to pick out movement that wasn't tinged with green or brown.

"Ace?" asked King. "What is it?"

"Quiet," he answered, all senses trained on his environment.

"We need to get a move on if we're going to set up before the ceremony starts," Ten pointed out.

"He asked for quiet," Jack snapped with a tight, professional voice. His black-gloved right hand drifted up to the hilt of a sword on his back, a curious thing to carry for a member of the Royal Flush Gang, but not so surprising given he too was a freelancer.

A harsh gale of wind blew through the treetops, sending branches and leaves rustling against each other. With a hard sigh, Deadshot lowered his arms and wrist-mounted guns, turning back toward the direction of the mansion beyond the still-distant treeline. Jack, however, was not so easily convinced, and kept scanning the treetops as they resumed moving. He tensed at Lawton's side about twenty seconds later and threw something into the air from his belt. A quiet grunt came from above, and as Deadshot whirled toward its source, his eyes widened behind his mask.

Dressed from head to toe in silver, steel-gray, and highlights of red and blue armor; was a figure almost as tall as him who was falling diagonally through the air. A cursory glance revealed that he had some sort of injector pod in his left hip, a gap between the armor plates, and was trying his hardest to remove it as he fell. The rest of the Gang spun in place, readying their weapons as the newcomer impacted the ground hard, rolling as best he could to mitigate the damage. Finally, he yanked the injector loose and inspected it for a moment before lunging behind a tree as two bolts of plasma lanced from King's scepter.

The Queen of Hearts exchanged a nod with Ten of Diamonds, who brandished a collapsible bo staff with electrified ends and charged toward the tree. Queen, on the other hand, opened a briefcase she'd been carrying for hours and unveiled a six-barrel grenade launcher, two of which she launched toward the tree once her sights were aligned. The rounds inside, like the weapons of King and Ten, were not standard munitions, and lit the tree trunk and surrounding grass and foliage on fire. Deadshot caught a flicker of silver light from behind the glare of the fire and raised his arms to take a shot at the figure. Between the trees and his armor, Lawton's target survived the salvo unfazed, managing to clear some more distance between them when he took off straight into the air and _flew_ up through the leaves.

The sniper cursed under his breath. _I swear I never learn;_ knew _that paycheck was too good to be true._

Not only was he partnered up with a group of idiots with no fashion sense, but he'd been sent after a target guarded by an armored meta with unknown abilities. The subtle but telltale whizz of spinning blades reached his ears from the opposite direction, and he spun around to fire automatic shots at three incoming objects. All three were perfectly bisected, though the source was still out of sight. Now that he knew they were under attack, Deadshot tuned his ears to the rustling leaves in an effort to pinpoint his position. It paid off moments later when a sharp rustle caught his attention, and he fired a dozen 4mm rounds in the space of a second, none of them landing thanks to the armored gauntlets they shattered against.

Eyes widening at the target's rapid descent, Lawton dove out of the way and found his airborne motion extended when a small shockwave erupted from the figure's point of impact. He barrel-rolled on contact with the ground, bringing his guns to bear and really getting a good look at his opponent. With a sudden start, he recognized this guy from a Gotham newscast a couple weeks back and felt his heart sink with the realization. This "Knight" character was one of Batman's allies, which meant the Bat himself probably wasn't far behind, given the high-profile nature of his target. If they were going to pull this off, they'd have to end this _fast_.

Apparently, the rest of his team understood that, because they all moved in on him from opposing sides. Ten and Jack got there first, sword and electric bo swinging from opposite directions. The Knight's arms came up to meet their attacks, gauntlets flaring with the sparks of impact. The electric burst that traveled along the metal of his bracer didn't seem to faze him at all, and he countered with a 360 roundhouse that forced both of them to withdraw a step or two. He pulled two dark objects from his belt, both clicking with sounds of extension, but one resolved into a shape much larger than the other. The smaller one was thrown toward Deadshot and perforated once more, but the larger met the sword and bo staff in repeated strikes and parries.

With Ten and Jack constantly alternating positions on either side of him, Deadshot couldn't get a clear shot at the Knight, and neither could Queen or King. The latter charged forward, the head of his staff-like scepter glowing with unstable energy as he took a swing at the Knight. The armored figure launched himself into the air in an intricate twist-flip, sword tucked flat against his body. Deadshot sent another burst of lead his way, two ricocheting off his armor plates and the rest off his gauntlets. Gritting his teeth, Lawton emptied the chamber of his right-hand gun and loaded a specialized tungsten-carbide round in. Taking a moment to line up his shot, he waited for the Knight's attention to be diverted by a grenade salvo from Queen.

Given all the ruckus they were causing out here, Deadshot was surprised not to see anyone else from the Bat's group, or even to hear approaching sirens; but he supposed they were far enough away from Wayne Manor for the sounds of gunfire not to carry. Suddenly, in the middle of deflecting attacks from Jack and Ten, the Knight stumbled backward and began to list. Ten lunged forward and jabbed him in the chest with her electrified staff, pulling a scream from his throat, followed by a flying kick to the face by Jack. Their combined efforts laid him out moments later, and with a hard kick to the head, his helmet was sent flying off into the brush.

Approaching cautiously, Lawton confirmed that their assailant was unconscious and turned to Jack for an explanation.

The masked freelancer held up one of those injectors he'd seen earlier. "Tibetan pit viper venom. Puts just about anyone on the ground within half a minute." He nodded toward the Knight's prone body. "Took a little longer for _him_."

Ten looked from Jack to King and Queen nervously, her tone reflecting it. "What do we do now?"

Jack looked at her as if she was stupid; Deadshot could tell even with that mask. "What do you mean? We kill him, simple as that."

"Simple to _you_ , maybe," said King, "but I like breathing a little too much."

"And?"

"And this…" Deadshot looked a little closer at his masked face, "this _kid_ is one of Batman's guys."

"I fail to see your point."

"The point is," Queen interrupted, "you don't cross Batman like that if you want to stay in one piece. You just _don't_."

"You're overreacting," said Jack. "The whole _world_ knows the Batman does not kill."

"Tell that to the _Joker_ ," King snapped, "who's been missing for _years_ ever since Robin got whacked. I didn't sign up for this."

Deadshot's eyes narrowed as he got up in King's face. "You're bugging out? Now?"

"Damn right we are."

"Not a chance. We took this job; we finish it."

King jabbed a finger in Lawton's face. "I did not get into this business to have my insides rearranged by a maniac in a bat costume. We're _done_."

Lawton huffed a sardonic laugh. "Seriously? And here I thought you were the King."

King's eyes narrowed under his crowned mask. "Your point, Ace?"

"The King is supposed to be calm and composed under fire, even in the worst circumstances." He got up in King's face. "Looks to me like you're a scared little _bitch_ just desperate for a way out."

They snarled at each other for a while until King's features shifted subtly. "Fine," he spat. "We finish the job." He turned to Jack and the unconscious body. "But I'll have no part in killing the Bat's protégé." He glanced between the rest of the team. "And I'd advise you don't either."

He, Queen, Ten, and Ace resumed their trek toward Wayne Manor, leaving Jack behind to clean up the mess.

…

Jason's hearing reawakened long before the rest of his body, soon enough to hear a harsh, tight male voice speaking to him in low tones.

"A shame you all chose the wrong side. This all could've been avoided had your master not scorned mine. But fear not, you will not die alone tonight; though you are only the first casualty of this war, you will not be the last. Goodbye, boy."

Jason's eyesight returned just in time to see the glint of a tanto spearing toward his left eye socket. It stopped barely three inches from piercing his head, the glint of the knife abandoned by his eyes in favor of a jet-black glove holding back the hand that wielded it. A black-clad arm snapped around his neck a split-second later, causing him to grunt and choke as he was hurled away from Jason and landed back-first on the ground. He rolled out of it and drew a sword from his back with his free hand, a snarl clear in his voice as the rest of the Royal Flush Gang turned to back him up.

" _Traitor_!"

Jason's eyes widened as he was slowly pulled upright by those black-clad arms, recognizing all too well the faceless mask in front of him. She turned her head to face her accuser, white-lensed eyes narrowing to slits as her cloak billowed in the passing wind.

"Now I understand," grated the altered voice of Jason's rescuer.

As the rest of the Royal Flush Gang arrived at Jack's rear, Jason tried to cry out and warn her that Deadshot was among their attackers but found this needless when a thick cloud of smoke erupted from the center of the group. Jack charged the pair with a roar but found himself coughing when she dropped a smoke pellet of her own at their feet. Jason felt his stomach drop sharply as they rose into the air, the hiss of a reeling grapnel reaching his ears as his drugged mind struggled to keep up. After a small rush of leaves and wind, they came to a stop some distance from the Gang, Jason lowered to sit against a tree.

He blinked rapidly and looked up at his rescuer, another dark-clad figure dropping down next to her with a flap of a feather-patterned cloak. "Sis? Tim?"

The taller man with a black skullcap and golden bird symbol on his chest crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "I've asked this of myself twice in the past two minutes, so I have to ask _you_ now: what the hell were you thinking?" He crouched at Jason's side, checking his pulse as Cassandra tilted his head this way and that to check his exposed skin for signs of poisoning. "Running off like that, _alone_ , to take on the Royal Flush Gang— _alone_."

Jason sighed hard and shut his eyes against a migraine that was threatening to erupt behind his temples. "That I could resolve this situation before it escalated—without ruining the wedding."

"You're an idiot, kid. A well-meaning idiot, but still an idiot."

Cassandra gave Tim a side-eyed look, which deflated him pretty quickly as she returned her attention to Jason. "How are you feeling?"

Jason grimaced and grunted as he tested the feeling in his fingers. "Better by the second, though I'm still a little lightheaded."

"What did they dose him with?" asked Tim.

"Tibetan pit viper venom," Cass replied. "It's an old League trick favored for live captures."

"Wait…League? As in League of Assassins?"

"The same."

"Great. Fantastic." Tim gave Jason a hard look. "Any idea why a member of the League of Assassins is working for the Royal Flush Gang?"

Jason arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "I've got a pretty good notion, yes. But I can't tell you for the same reason I never asked for your help."

Tim blinked. "Knowledge of the future."

He nodded.

The Red Robin bowed his shaking head. "Damn it, kid. The whole point of being part of a team is not having to fight alone." He waved at Jason's prone form. "Now you can't even fight at all."

Jason's head shook as he got one leg under him. "Not true."

A grunt and sharp push later, and he stumbled to his feet, a burst of dizziness causing him to list for a moment before he steadied.

"You can barely stand," Tim pointed out.

"Yet his improvement is highly accelerated," Cassandra countered. "I saw the injectors on Jack's belt; with a dose that size, you shouldn't even be _awake_ right now."

Jason nodded sharply. "When I was six, I got really bad food poisoning and was laid out in bed for a week. That's how we found out my immune system wasn't on par with Mom's. So, as part of my training, I underwent six months of immunity boosting with various toxins." He grunted as he took and brushed off his proffered helmet from Cassandra. "Because of its common use among the League, Tibetan pit viper venom was one of them." The helmet went over his features and magnetically sealed a moment later.

"All the same," Black Bat countered, "you should still take it easy."

Jason's head shook. "No time. Ace and Jack aren't here for the same reason as the rest, and are _significantly_ more dangerous."

"Agreed," said Cass. "If Lawton has the time to set up, he could take a shot at anyone in that building."

"What if you'd failed and we hadn't been here?" asked Tim. "What then?"

Jason snorted. "Then Superman and the rest of the League would trash them and the day would still be saved."

"Cameras. Reporters. Their hands are tied."

His head shook as they made their way back toward the RFG. "After that debacle at the reception, Damian installed a set of cascading EMPs in the wedding hall to disable any recording devices and lights in case of just this scenario. Anything pops off, he'll do just that, and the League will go to work. Even if someone were to try spilling the beans after the fact, they'd never have any proof."

"…smart, though I _meant_ what would've happened to _you_?"

Jason fell silent for a while. "Guess it doesn't matter now. Now that you two are here, we can still handle this quietly."

Cass and Tim exchanged a look before nodding.

"That EMP needs to be last-resort," said Tim. "Proof or no proof, I can't imagine any good will come of having so much suspicion cast on the Wayne family."

"Agreed," Cass added. "Is your head on straight?"

Jason tested his body's responsiveness and range of motion, smiling a moment later. "Oh yeah. How do we want to play this?"

Red Robin took cover behind a tree and crouched down with the rest. "The Royal Flush Gang is in the business of armed robbery; Deadshot and that assassin? Not so much. So they're here to kill someone. That makes them top priority. Black Bat and I can take Ace and Jack if you distract the others."

Jason's head shook. "No way. Deadshot's mine."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "This isn't a debate. You tried things your way, and you failed."

Black Bat's head shook. "I disagree." She waved widely, indicating their surroundings. "This region has very few vantage points that could overlook the wedding hall from the distance Lawton prefers to shoot. The ones that exist have long, open sight lines on all sides; not a lot of cover. With his reflexes and armor, Knight should be able to close the distance without getting hit, even if he's spotted."

Tim sighed. "Which leaves me to distract King, Queen, and Ten."

Jason shrugged. "They're not _that_ good. Especially if you're just distracting them."

Red Robin pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. "Fine. Cass, we'll do this your way." His lensed eyes turned to fix Jason with a firm look. "I hope you know what you're doing."

…

A firm tap on the shoulder snapped Bruce's attention away from conversing with Dick. He turned around to see a familiar frown on Clark's face that could only mean trouble.

"Don't look now," said Clark, "but I picked up gunfire in the distance…and explosions."

Bruce blinked. "Where?"

"North end, in the forest."

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he pulled his phone from his pocket and briefly pressed his thumb against the screen. A black bat-symbol pulsed on the screen in response, the interface turning to a tinted blue-green and opening a tracking system connected directly to the Batcomputer. He pulled up Jason's tracker data, verifying that he was in the vicinity Clark had specified. More curious was the fact that Tim and Cassandra's trackers were right there with him…though he supposed it was hardly surprising given that those two had gone off to find him.

Glancing around, Bruce realized he couldn't afford to pull up their visual feeds in a room this crowded, so instead he put the phone to his ear and patched himself into their comm. frequency.

The click that answered was followed by a slightly winded voice. "Bruce—kinda in the middle of something."

He deliberately heightened the pitch of his voice and smiled to avoid suspicion. "Just checking to make sure you'll be on time. Traffic isn't too bad coming out this way, is it?"

Tim's voice was borderline annoyed. "No, no, no, of course not; considering the Royal Flush Gang hired Deadshot and a League assassin to fill in as Ace and Jack."

Bruce's eyes widened slightly as he turned and snapped his fingers to get the attention of Dick and Damian. "Need someone to dig you out?"

"Could use a little help with King, Queen, and Ten. And someone to back Jason up against Deadshot."

"Deadshot's mine," Jason's voice interrupted. "I'll be fine."

Bruce frowned. "What about Jack?"

Tim's voice took on a darkly amused tone. "Cass is handling him."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Understood."

He motioned to Dick and nodded in the direction of the study. He nodded back and promptly left the room without a word. Damian gave his father a questioning look, but Bruce just shook his head. If worse came to worst, and this took too long, they'd need him inside for his part in the ceremony.

"Do you need _me_ to come dig you out?" Bruce asked in a mock jovial tone.

A click sounded over the link. "Absolutely not," Jason said in no uncertain terms. "This is your night; the whole point of me not telling you about this was so you _wouldn't_ have to worry."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "We will _discuss_ your lack of communication skills later, young man. For now, wrap up what you're doing and get back here ASAP. Your mother won't be happy if you're late."

Jason chuckled nervously. "Yeah, yeah." A click signaled his exit from the call.

"He's gonna be a handful, isn't he boss?" asked Tim.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off an incoming headache. "Waynes always are. _All_ of us."

"We'll get the job done," Cassandra said. "Count on it."

His lips pursed tightly as he ended the call and turned back to Clark, lowering his voice. "It's being handled, but be ready to go hot if necessary."

Clark adjusted his glasses and nodded, stuffing both hands in his pockets as the bridal party entered the hall. He and "Clara" exchanged a long look, his much younger cousin sending him a nervous glance and nodding toward the north side of the manor grounds. He smiled reassuringly and gave her a small wave to calm down, which she attempted to do with some success as she sidled up next to Dinah and Lois. Clark strode over to his wife and leaned down to whisper in her ear, explaining the situation. She took it in stride with a small nod and smiled when he pecked her cheek before returning to his place at Bruce's side.

His ear twitched with more distant sounds—and voices—that kept his attention occupied elsewhere…

…

"Good luck."

Tim's last words to Jason and Cass before they split off rang in her ears long after. Of all the factors she'd considered in this situation or any other, luck had never been one. "Fortune favors the bold," they said. Well, apparently that rule made an exception for the Waynes. They fought and clawed for every inch of progress, often against obstacles within their own minds that held them back. Bruce's inability to trust and be vulnerable had been his greatest drawback for years, and though he backslid on occasion, committing his life to another's as equals kept him from ever going through a total relapse.

That she could quite literally wrangle the truth out of him if she so wished also helped considerably.

Damian's insurmountable ego and insistence he was always right drove him to go to extreme lengths to prove it, which occasionally put himself and others at risk. And Jason? Well, Jason had one hell of a temper that had a nasty tendency to blind his more rational side and drive him to jump to conclusions. What little Cassandra had seen of him that night and from the recordings of the Markan investigation, combined with what she'd been told, painted a picture of a boy desperate to prove himself. To what or whom, she couldn't prove, but given his mission in returning to the past, she could say with near-certainty that his parents were at the very top of that list.

Given his contentious relationship with his half-brother, Damian was probably a close second, if only for the purpose of bragging rights.

Cass smirked behind her full mask. _Typical boys, those two. So immature._

His behavior towards _her_ , on the other hand, was another matter entirely. His body language, even under the fading effects of the venom, had shifted completely the moment he recognized her mask. And he'd called her, "Sis." Apart from Bruce and Diana, she had never heard of him addressing anyone in the family by such a familiar title. Not even Damian, who he was technically more closely related to; it was Damian or Dami with him. His slip of the tongue on their first meeting was telling enough, but the way he stuck close to her on their way to find Deadshot and Jack only reinforced the connection he drew to her.

Jason's aerial reconnaissance of the area surrounding Wayne Manor had easily revealed Deadshot's sniper post thanks to Cass's directions, and they were now closing in on the only location that had shown heat or motion. Given how easily Jason had been detected last time he tried to hit him from above, he opted instead to strike at Lawton from the treeline, preferably with a flashbang grenade or something else that limited his options for counterattack. As for the rest of the Royal Flush Gang, Tim had caught sight of them on sonar approaching the manor from the west, but there were only three of them. Jason had only seen one distinct heat sig at the sniper perch, which left Jack's whereabouts worryingly unaccounted for.

Still, as Jason flew into position within the cover of the forest, some thirty feet from Deadshot, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. That is, until a whistle came from the side and something nailed him in the crook of the arm—yet another vulnerability in his suit. He hit the ground moments later, rolling haphazardly with another injector clutched in the crook of his elbow. A black-clad form stalked out from behind a row of thick foliage, absently tossing a knife up and down in his left hand while his right laid the flat of his katana's blade across his shoulder.

Jack's derisive sneer was apparent in his voice. "Did you really think he would leave his back unprotected after that little intervention?" His head shook slowly. "You just never learn."

Jason's lolling mouth and closed eyes seemed to agree with him—until his lips spread into a wide grin and his eyes snapped open to lock directly onto Jack's. "Actually," he held up the injector in his hand, "I do." Jason dropped it to the ground a moment later, the needle never having pierced his skin.

Jack huffed. "So, you intend to fight me then, boy?"

He shrugged. "You're not my priority, so…nope." His grin widened as he pointed at Jack. "But _she_ is."

It took the assassin another half-second to realize Jason wasn't pointing _at_ him so much as _behind_ him. And by then he was already two steps behind. The back of Black Bat's fist planted in Jack's jaw before he'd turned halfway, and the instinctive slash he made at her neck barely grazed the arm-blades she reflexively brought up mid-dodge. A stop-thrust from the dagger in his left hand went literally over her head when she leaned her entire body backward and used her right hand to push it even further away. Her bent position lent itself to a shin-kick to Jack's lower ribs, followed swiftly by a knee drop with the same leg that brought her armored knee into his left instep.

Grunting and reeling in pain, Jack lunged away to reorient himself and plan his next course of attack, but the Black Bat was relentless. Cloak billowing in her wake, she opened with a flying knee that impacted his left shoulder hard and nearly dislocated it. It did, however, force him to drop the knife and line him up for a twist-kick that nailed him in the gut a split-second after she hit the ground. While he was still doubled over, Cass cartwheeled over his back while hooking her arm with his and used her momentum to hurl him ribs-first into a nearby tree with an impact that sounded of more than dented bark.

By the speed at which he assumed a near-fetal position, it appeared the only reason he wasn't screaming in pain was for lack of air.

Glancing back at the edge of the treeline, Black Bat blinked twice to activate her multispectral lenses and verify Jason's condition. A whizz of air from Jack's direction prompted her to snap one arm up as a shield, narrowly avoiding having a shuriken planted in her face when it bounced off her gauntlet. Though bruised and most likely suffering from broken ribs, it appeared Jack had no intention of backing down. But then, she would have expected nothing less from an agent of the Demon.

…

Red Robin caught up to the other three RFG members less than thirty yards from the manor's rear entrance, almost close enough to trip the mansion's extensive perimeter defenses but not quite enough for sounds of gunfire to alert the guests. At least, he hoped not, or this whole "under-the-radar" tactic was for nothing. By the sounds over his commlink with the others, Cass had already engaged the enemy, though he couldn't speak to Jason's end. Probably because the armored twit had turned his line off.

A pronounced sigh passed through his throat as he laid in wait for his quarry—and backup—mind racing with thoughts of the newest member of the family. Tim had been having the worst case of _déjà vu_ ever since he'd shown up. Too many memories of Bart Allen had resurfaced when the words "time travel" started getting thrown around the manor and he saw in Jason some of the same idiosyncrasies he knew were unique to Waynes. It was a little freaky, just how much he resembled Bruce. Damian did too, to a degree, but the demon kid had far more of his mother in him…visually at least.

And, Tim was sure, psychologically as well.

Jason, at least, seemed a little more stable from an emotional standpoint than Damian had when he first came to live with them. Though that was probably from spending the first fifteen years of his life being raised by two loving parents instead of two deranged, centuries-old sociopaths with dreams of world domination.

 _Let it go, Tim._

Felt like he'd told himself that a thousand times since first meeting Damian. But if repetition was the mother of excellence, then maybe one day he'd actually start taking his own advice.

"Redbird, Redbird, you readin' me?"

Tim tapped the side of his cowl. "Bluebird, I read you loud and clear. How are things inside?"

"A little tense," Nightwing responded, "at least until we get this Royal Flush mess sorted out. Big Blue gave us the advance warning; why didn't you and Cass say anything?"

"Probably for the same reason Jason didn't. Didn't want you guys to worry."

Nightwing's tone was no less than scolding as he came into view on a perch some dozen feet away. "The Royal Flush Gang occasionally gives the _Justice League_ a run for their money, and you three thought you'd be enough to bring them down?"

Tim frowned and glanced down at the approaching thieves. "Cass alone is worth half of them, plus a half-Amazon trained by Bats, and _me_. I think we'll be fine."

"Fair enough, but I'd prefer not to bring you back to Steph in a body cast, if at all possible."

He blinked and met Dick's eyes. "She's _here_?"

"Oh yeah. Came in with Babs, pretty lowkey. I think she's nervous about seeing you after that incident in Malaysia."

"Oh God," Tim groaned as Dick let out a nervous laugh, "please don't remind me." He frowned. "Seriously, though, you think she's still upset about that? It's been _months_."

Dick sighed hard as he crouched on his perch and mimed a falling arc, presumably to plan his initial attack. "I think she's more worried about how you'll look at her given how and why she quit. Just make sure she knows you don't think any less of her and you'll be fine."

Tim shook his head slowly, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off a headache before refocusing on the task at hand. "On _that_ note…shall we?"

Nightwing launched himself off the tree in response, followed by Red Robin; and together, the Blüdhaven partners flew into action.

…

As soon as Black Bat engaged Jack, Jason moved onto his approach on Deadshot. No doubt he'd already be expecting him, but all he had to do was get his hands on Lawton and it was over. Though he'd taken on Wonder Woman before, so Jason couldn't afford to be careless. Based on how soundwaves carried through air—and the fact that Deadshot would have an awkward time aiming his rifle at that angle—Jason figured his best bet was to hit him from directly above. Twenty seconds later, Deadshot was panning his scope across the windows of the wedding hall, scanning for his target, when a quiet _thud_ sounded right next to him.

He blinked and looked to the side, his prone form tensing when he saw a rapidly expanding cloud of gray smoke erupting from a grenade. He spun his body so he lay on his back, rifle braced against his shoulder as he faced the sky, scanning his steadily vanishing field of view for motion. Apparently deciding he'd been too compromised, Lawton rolled away and relocated to another position on the ridge overlooking Wayne Manor. Two more _thuds_ sounded around him, and he was soon trapped in a massive cloud of smoke that completely obstructed his view. Frowning, he slung his rifle and prepped his arm cannons, keeping his ears trained on any slight shifts in the air.

He found one moments later and let off a burst of rounds that rocketed off into the distance, then another several dozen degrees to the side. This repeated for nearly a full minute before he had to reload the ammo belt in his left cannon. A loud _whir_ erupted as soon as he did this, and he rolled to the side as a steel-gray blur shot past him, whirling around to fire a burst of automatic fire at the Knight, two of which tagged him in the torso. Grunting, he dropped from the air and vanished into the smoke, giving Deadshot the opportunity to finish reloading.

Lawton slowly shook his head. "Never could figure out why the Bat sends kids to do his dirty work. And he calls _me_ the criminal." When no response came, he kept talking. "Back off, Knight. This ain't your fight."

"What's wrong?" came an altered voice from behind. "Feeling nervous?"

Deadshot spun toward it, finger on the trigger of his guns but not hitting them. The voice was too distant to be sure of his aim in this smoke. "Not in the slightest; I'd just prefer not to have to put you down."

"Why should you care?" came the voice from another angle. "I'm in your way, just an obstacle to be removed."

Lawton frowned behind his mask. "I'm not getting paid for you…and I don't hurt kids."

"Didn't seem to stop you from letting Jack put me down."

Deadshot cursed under his breath. This punk kept relocating; his voice was bouncing all over, which, if he didn't know he could fly, wouldn't make any sense given the ridge was flat with no cover. Still, he couldn't keep this up forever; that smoke was going to disperse eventually, and was already thinning out in the cold night air. All he had to do was keep him talking.

"What do you think you're going to accomplish?" asked Deadshot. "I already proved you can't touch me, and since you and your boss are allergic to bloodletting, I don't see another way this ends well for you. Just walk away."

"You've never seen a way this ends well for us, yet you consistently lose. You're going back to Blackgate, Lawton. How many pieces you're in by the time you get there is entirely up to you."

Lawton's eyes narrowed. His voice was narrowing down, getting more localized. Either he was getting sloppy or planning to charge from one direction. "Don't make me shoot you again, kid. Last time was a warning shot. I won't do that again."

A harsh, mocking laugh answered him from the same direction. "Don't get me wrong, Deadshot; you're good…"

He opened up with his cannons, letting off an extended burst that crisscrossed the location of the voice. No further words came for a few moments as the last of the smoke cleared and he used the telescopic lens over his right eye to spy out the position. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw a perforated device—a voice recorder, if he had to guess. A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck when that same voice came from behind— _right_ behind.

"…but I've had a _lot_ of practice fighting you."

Lawton tensed for barely a split-second before spinning toward the Knight. His right arm found itself trapped in his grip before he could get a bead on him, so he bent his left to fire from the hip. The cannon was redirected to aim out to the side, hitting nothing and leaving him exposed to a throw that sent him flying over the Knight's shoulder. The motion ripped off his right-hand cannon. Quickly rolling to face him, Deadshot let loose what was left in his left-hand cannon, eyes widening when the Knight's arms turned into gray blurs that formed a metal shield between them and allowed him to close the distance.

Lawton lashed out with a right jab and tried to use that distraction to shoot him point-blank. The force with which his jab was slapped away threw his entire balance off and sent a shock of pain running up his wrist as the Knight planted a hard palm in his midsection, knocking the wind out of him. A threatening _click_ sounded from his left arm as a trio of arm-blades sprouted from his gauntlets and swung for Deadshot's face. He threw his arms up to protect himself, which was exactly what the Knight was after—his left-hand cannon was cut right down the center and fell to the ground in pieces.

Lawton's eyes met his opponent's for a split-second, and for a moment he felt like he was facing down the Batman. That instant of hesitation slowed his response to a hard snap-kick to the gut that further winded him, followed by a flying knee that launched him across the ridge. Before he could even push himself halfway upright, a hard blow to the head knocked his mask clear off and sent black spots growing in the edge of his vision. Coughing hard, Lawton slumped to the ground and groaned as he laid sideways, staring up at his attacker.

"What is he… _feeding_ you?"

The Knight blinked twice, and in the glint of the moonlight reflecting off his helmet, Floyd just managed to catch the hint of a smirk. Then his fist came down and he knew only darkness.

…

"Ten!"

Queen's panicked outburst was music to Tim's ears as he planted a taser disc on Ten's back, incapacitating her following a cartwheel flip over her back. Nightwing was keeping King busy with an endless barrage of wing-dings between cascading tumbles and somersaults to avoid his plasma shots. The pommel of King's plasma scepter expanded into a full staff when Nightwing closed the distance and engaged him escrimas-to-bo. Queen, on the other hand, bombarded Red Robin with shock grenades that scattered highly unstable ions over a small radius of impact.

He managed to narrowly avoid them with a hard sprint between the trees, firing his grapnel into a high trunk and reeling himself up into the leaves. A bird-shaped shuriken flew down at Queen's mask a moment after he vanished from view. She ducked it and returned fire in the direction in came from, not knowing that it was programmed to spin back around. It nailed her in the back a moment later, penetrating just enough for the electrodes built into its circuitry to take hold and shock her unconscious.

Nightwing and King were still going at it when Red glided to the ground. That bout was quickly ended when King blocked a double overhead strike and Nightwing used his horizontally-oriented scepter as a springboard to launch himself upward into a backward somersault. The downward force threw King completely off-balance and left him vulnerable to a falling pommel strike to the head with both of Nightwing's escrimas. The tandem impacts knocked King's lights out and left Nightwing and Red Robin standing over three unconscious forms. Dick twirled his escrimas for a second before collapsing and returning them to his belt.

He tapped his earpiece to open a channel to the rest of the team. "Nightwing and Red here; we got ours. How are the rest of you holding up?"

A click answered him a moment later. "I've got Lawton in custody. He's taking a little nappy time. Where do you want to stash these guys for the cops?"

"There's an access road to the far south of the manor," Dick answered.

"I know the place," Jason replied. "Be there soon. Sis, you good?"

Black Bat's line remained silent for a moment or two before a burst of static prefaced her voice. "Jack proved…stubborn. But yes, I'm fine. See you there."

A few exhausting minutes later, Red Robin laid Ten and Queen down against a sewer grate that they were then cuffed to next to King. All three were still unconscious by the time Jason and Black Bat arrived, the latter dragging Jack's limp form behind her one-handed. Tim couldn't help but notice Jason's grin as he watched Cass's approach. There was definitely something strange about their interactions, at least from what little he'd seen. Jason acted far more familiar with Cass than he had been with anyone else, even Bruce and Diana. He supposed that could be due to the fact that parents already have a degree of separation greater than that of siblings. Still, that didn't stop him from keeping Damian at arm's length.

Though to be honest, Tim couldn't really blame him for that one.

It was as Tim was shackling Jack to the rest of the Royal Flush Gang that he caught sight of Jason sticking his fist out at Cassandra. She stared at his hand blankly for a second before tentatively bumping it with hers. Contrary to his attitude the first time Tim and Jason had met, he seemed almost… _giddy_. Tim would have to ask Cass about it later; after all, she could read nuances in his body language that were far beyond his ability to comprehend. So absorbed was he with observing their newest teammate that he didn't notice Jack waking up until a small _click_ sounded from his direction.

He whirled toward the source of the noise on high alert but found himself winded when a hard impact to the solar plexus stunned him. Everyone else present lunged for him, but even Jason wasn't fast enough to clear the distance as Jack pilfered a shuriken from Tim's belt and lunged for his neck—

 _Bang!_

A sharp crack from the distant south-side treeline preceded a warm spatter against Tim's cowled face. He felt strong arms pulling him back as he tried to recover his breath. Two other forms strode past him, bent over a white-and-black form with a bloody hole where his face used to be. Cassandra's form was tense and ready to go as she snapped toward the source of the shot, as did everyone else. Jason, however, was as relaxed as ever; and when Tim took a closer look at what little was visible of his face, he caught more than a hint of a smirk on his lips—which moved a second later.

If he strained, he could just make out the faintest whisper of, "Knew you'd be here."

Eyes narrowing, Tim turned to face the treeline and caught the glint of a scope reflecting the moonlight—along with the faintest flash of red that quickly vanished into the evergreens. Red Robin looked up at Nightwing, who had a pinched expression on his face and his hands balled into fists.

"You want to go after him?" Tim asked.

Dick's head shook. "With this much of a head start, there wouldn't be much point. Besides, we can't afford to be out any longer if we want to avoid suspicion. We're gonna be late for the ceremony as-is."

"Then who stays with them?" asked Black Bat with a finger pointed at the unconscious RFG. "At least until the police arrive."

"I will."

The other three turned to Jason.

"You sure?" asked Tim as Dick strode off to the side and muttered into his commlink, presumably to update Bruce.

He smiled ruefully. "History doesn't remember me in that room. Maybe this time it should stay that way."

A loud _whir_ and flash of blue later, all four live suspects had vanished.

"What the—" Jason blinked twice and looked around in confusion. "Wait—was that a—"

The _whir_ returned, but this time it came with a grinning red-haired man in a rumpled tux standing as tall as Nightwing.

"—speedster," Jason finished blankly.

The redhead stuck out his hand with a smile. "Wally West—"

"Keystone City's Flash," Jace interrupted as he shook his hand, "yes. I remember now. Pleasure to meet you. How's your cousin? I didn't see him here."

Wally exchanged a glance with Dick, who muttered, "Just roll with it."

The speedster shook his head and faced Jason. "Wally Jr. is hanging with GA's kid tonight. Dinah needed a sitter."

"Ah." Jason chuckled. "He doesn't actually know you call him that, does he?"

Wally laughed and turned to Dick. "I think I'm gonna like this new bro you got."

Dick crossed his arms and looked over at Jason with a smile. "Verdict's still out." He waved at Jack's corpse. "Would you uh…mind transporting that to the ME's office?"

Wally looked at Jack and grimaced, as if noticing him for the first time. "Yeesh. Who was this guy and who did he piss off?"

"Two questions I would love to have answered," Dick replied with a pointed look at a tight-lipped Jason.

The kid bent over Jack's faceless form with a frown on his face. "I had hoped…" his head shook, "but I guess it wasn't meant to be." He stood up slowly and faced the others with an enigmatic expression on his face as he pulled off his helmet. "We need to get changed now if we don't want to be late." He turned to nod at Tim. "And you might want to get yourself cleaned off. You've got uh…" He waved at his own face to indicate the spatter coating Tim.

"Right," Tim muttered in reply, huffing a sigh.

The look on Dick's face told him he and Bruce would be having words with Jason later, Cass's faceless mask gave nothing away, and Wally just looked a little confused.

With a sigh, Nightwing turned to Wally and cleared his throat.

"On it," replied the speedster an instant before Tim felt his stomach lurch to one side and he found himself standing in the Batcave in his wedding clothes. When he checked, the gore on his face had vanished as well. Looking around, all the others were there too, and only the faintest hint of blue lightning in his peripheral vision indicated how they'd arrived.

Tim let out a hard breath as his stomach slowly stabilized, muttering, "Never get used to that."

Dick just adjusted his bowtie and called for the elevator. "Come on. We need to get topside."

"Right behind you," answered Cass.

Jason was silent the whole ride up. A brief glance at his face was enough to confirm just how deep in thought he was. Tim looked to Cass, who met his gaze with a silent assurance that they'd talk later. With a small shake of his head, he cleared his mind and exited the elevator on a beeline to the wedding hall.

…

Minutes later, Tim was standing between Dick and Damian, listening to the processional music as the doors at the far end opened. Diana strode through in a flowing dress of pure white, hanging on the arm of Alfred, who for all intents and purposes looked the part of the doting father.

Considering how long he'd been rooting for exactly this outcome, he might as well have been.

In spite of the night's tumultuous events—and numerous questions that still needed answering—he couldn't keep a wide smile off his face when he caught sight of Bruce's. The old man was smiling, _genuinely_ smiling. It wasn't the wide, fake grin he wore in his billionaire playboy persona, nor the intimidating smirk he wore as Batman. This was a small, warm thing that bespoke a peace of mind he'd never seen from his mentor. As his bride took the stage and his hands, Tim's gaze drifted to a particular blonde in the crowd, eyes widening when he saw the low-cut strapless dress she was wearing.

The teasing grin on her face made matters even worse when Damian caught him blushing and got this sinister smirk on his lips. Tim restrained a groan as he imagined how the reception would be with those two on his case. Still, if Steph had gone to all that trouble to catch his eye, that was definitely a good sign. If he got to have that girl on his arm all night, he could deal with Damian's obnoxious teasing. The faintest hint of movement caught his attention a little to her left, when a black-haired teen wiped the back of his hand over his face.

In spite of his original plan and Dick's insistence, Jason had elected to remain off the stage, despite technically being a groomsman. His reasoning was found in the numerous cameras dotting the crowd. Apparently, this wedding was going to make the front page of every paper in Gotham tomorrow, and keeping himself out of the corresponding photo was his way of avoiding a time paradox. Tim couldn't for the life of him figure out his game plan. When Bart Allen had come to the past to save his grandfather, everything he did worked toward that goal. If Jason's MO remained the same, then taking on the Royal Flush Gang had been part of that.

Which made Tim wonder: what would've happened if Jason hadn't caught them out in the forest?

With tightly-pursed lips, he silently observed the kid, whose eyes were red with tears and lips were spread into a wide smile. Jason caught him staring a moment later and gave him a small nod before returning his attention to the couple as they said their vows. Tim sighed hard and shook his head a bit, turning to face Bruce and Diana. Jason wasn't the man he was named after, and though rough around the edges, he had great potential. Still, he was glad to live in Blüdhaven. He'd had to deal with enough unpredictable behavior with Damian. As he looked at the soon-to-be-married couple, he felt a swell of pity for the monumental task ahead of them.

And with a smirk, Tim's only thought was, _Better you than me._

…

Bruce held Diana's hands in his own, grasping them firmly, with every bit of resolve with which he uttered his vows. "Diana…since the night I was orphaned, a small part of me has always feared that I would die alone." His lips pursed tightly. "Years later, I was hurt deeply by someone I loved…and that fear became a certainty." He smiled as she frowned at the floor, one hand moving to tip her head back up. "Until I met you. Diana, you…came into my life at a time when I was at my absolute lowest and you shined a light that brought with it so much hope and life. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe without the weight of the world on my shoulders and…I learned just how wrong I was to let fear control my life.

"We're not perfect, and neither is our relationship…" he let out a small huff of a laugh, "but that's the whole point. You complete me in a way I didn't think possible." He held her face as she held back tears. "Every single day we're together, you build me up; you bolster my strengths, and you aren't afraid to make me face my flaws. You are by far the strongest, kindest woman I have ever met…and I will never be ashamed to say that I love you with all my heart. Here and now, on the honor of my name and the legacy of my parents, I swear to continue to do so until the day I die." He smiled warmly and stroked a thumb over her cheek. "I love you."

Diana sniffed and wiped her face with a small, cracked laugh. She sniffed again once she'd regained her composure and met his eyes with a warmth that made his breath catch. "Bruce…there was so much about the world, and about love, that I didn't understand until I met you. In my travels, I've seen much of what humanity has to offer: fear, greed, cruelty…and their more redeeming qualities as well. My world used to be so small, so black and white. You shattered that simplicity when you gave me a glimpse into yours." She smiled ruefully. "When we first met, I thought you were just as the tabloids had painted you: a spoiled, rich philanderer with little else on his mind but booze and women." Her eyes hardened. "But I was wrong.

"You opened my eyes to some harsh truths about your life, about the need to keep up appearances and remain strong, even when inside you feel yourself coming apart. You make a difference every single day, not only in this city, but in the lives of everyone you meet; efforts that often go unacknowledged. And even in spite of the fear you admit controlled you," she laid a hand on his cheek, "you had the courage to let me in and see your true face." She thumbed the space just next to his eyes as she stared into his soul. "All that hurt, all those scars you hide from the world—that is _exactly_ what makes you so beautiful to me. So thank you for letting me in, and for being the greatest partner I could ask for. Before our friends and families, I promise that I will be the same for you, for as long as fate allows."

Bruce's heart swelled as he held her hips, a hint of movement in his peripheral vision indicating Damian's approach with the rings.

"Bruce Wayne," said the officiator, "do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Bruce smiled and took the diamond ring that once belonged to Martha Wayne in hand, looking deeply into Diana's eyes before slipping it on her ring finger, right next to her engagement ring. "I do."

"And do you, Diana Prince, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Diana took a slim gold ring from Damian's palm and stared down at it for a moment before meeting Bruce's gaze with a wide, warm smile. "I do." She slid it onto his hand and held on after.

"If any should have cause to speak against this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Bruce caught sight of Shayera poorly suppressing a conniving smirk just over Diana's shoulder and gave her the _fiercest_ Bat-glare. She deflated immediately and resumed smiling with a shake of her head. After another moment of silence, the officiator continued.

"Then with the power vested in me by God and the City of Gotham, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He smiled and waved to them. "Please, kiss your bride."

And with that, Bruce threw his last bit of restraint to the wind and physically tripped Diana backward, catching her halfway down and holding her there. Their eyes met for a long moment as she smiled, her arms looping around his neck as a sign of trust before he proceeded to kiss her senseless. The whole room erupted into deafening applause, which continued long after they broke apart and began to straighten. The immense blush in her cheeks and the way her eyes kept darting to him when they faced the crowd let him know that neither of them would be getting much sleep that night.

But who needed sleep when he had such an inhumanly beautiful bride? Besides, it wasn't as if he had to work in the morning—being a billionaire did have its perks—or at any point in the next week. He and Dick had already agreed that Nightwing would watch over Gotham for the duration of their honeymoon, and he fully intended to make good use of every second.

As the newly married couple waved to the applauding guests, dozens of camera flashes went off and they received the standing ovation of a lifetime from the people they lived and worked with and those they'd sworn to protect. It was as perfect a moment as Bruce could ever have imagined, enough to bring tears to Alfred's eyes and even get Damian to drop his indifferent act.

But out of all those present as the Waynes started a new chapter in their life, none was more joyous—or clapped harder—than the kid standing on the front row, looking on with their eyes.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the wait, guys. School has been a nightmare and I've had to do a lot of writing for it lately. It's done a number on my joints, and with the new major I'm going into I doubt that's going to change. Finally managed to finish this bit though, and I hope it serves as a good cap-off to this story arc.

I'm hoping to work on the next chapter over Thanksgiving break, but I have a lot of work and research to do for school, so we'll see. Whether I do or not, I'd love to hear what you thought about this arc—and if you get the chance, pop over to my author page and take the poll I have listed there. It might help me keep the creative juices flowing if I have an idea of who or what you'd like to see in this story down the line.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Xu Xu Fang - Noir State Beach: "Good luck"/Team Batman vs RFG/long-distance snipe

P.S.: In case it wasn't readily apparent, I prefer Cassandra Cain's mask as Batgirl to the one she has as Black Bat, so I kept it in this universe.


	7. Case File 2: The Gotham Royal Hotel

Hawaii was nice this time of year. At least, that's what the brochures said. It was supposed to be a year-round vacation spot for rich couples like the Waynes. Honeymooning in August gave them mid-eighties weather during the day and cool seventies in the evening. Perfect weather for exploring the islands while the sun was up and exploring each other once the moon came out. Unfortunately, there was a heavy storm their first day thanks to an unusual cold front that lasted a good thirty-six hours, raining them indoors. All the same, Bruce couldn't complain. After all, neither of them had really come out there for the scenery.

At least, not the view from the window of their hotel room. The view from the bed, however…was spectacular. No matter how many times he saw this side of Diana (and there had been quite a few since their wedding night), it always caught him off-guard how inhumanly beautiful she was. And it _was_ inhuman. After all, she'd been designed by gods from another dimension and blessed by their avatar of beauty with looks fit to stop the heart. A shame those beings turned out to be the worst kind of a-holes when the chips were down.

Bruce could still remember how Diana had been back then, almost two years ago now, when they stole the power they'd bestowed on her from birth. The sequence of events that quickly followed might've been termed "Ragnarok" save for the intervention of Shazam, Dr. Fate, and Zatanna; who all worked together to restore Diana's powers and stop Olympus from bringing the whole world to an end. If it wasn't for the sorcerers' quick thinking—and a betrayal from within Olympus' own ranks—things could have ended very differently. What could've been the end of the world was only the end of Zeus' ambitions.

"What's on your mind, love?"

Bruce blinked and focused his attention back on Diana, who was leaning back against the frame of their balcony's sliding door. He cracked a small smile and shook his head. "Nothing important."

She crossed her arms and gave him a look. "You have aneurism face."

He stopped short and arched an eyebrow. "Aneurism face?"

Diana hummed and nodded, approaching him. "You always look like that when you're thinking about something you wish you'd handled differently."

Bruce huffed. "That's called regret, Di, not an aneurism."

She sat in his lap and looped her arms around his neck. "No, this is more…severe, for lack of a better term."

He blinked and looked away, out into the gray of the rain. "The Olympus War."

Diana stared at him for a second before sighing and turning her body to face in the same direction, serving as little spoon with his arms around her midriff. "Yeah."

Bruce reached up and stroked her hair, relaxing bit by bit as she hummed and leaned into his touch. It was a few minutes later that he spoke. "I just wish I could've done something."

She glanced back with a startled look. "You _did_."

He frowned. "I meant for you."

She turned back toward him and cupped his face. "But you did. Being suddenly powerless, with everything that was going on…you were there for me through all that. I couldn't have gotten back up the way I did if it wasn't for you."

His head shook. "Shazam and the others would've gotten your powers back either way."

Diana fixed him with a hard look. "That's not what I meant and you know it." She sighed hard, calming herself. "Bruce, we both know that without the will to act or the hope that you'll even make a difference, all the power in the world is useless. You grounded me, helped me keep my head in the game." She thumbed around his temples, an adoring look in her eyes. "And you let me know without a word that no matter what happened I'd always have a home with you." Her voice cracked a bit as she blinked back tears. "You have… _no_ idea what that meant to me."

Bruce couldn't form a reply that seemed sufficient, so he held her hips and kissed her softly, burying his face in the nape of her neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair in a rhythm that mimicked the rainfall, lulling him into a state of relaxation he hadn't felt in almost a year, not since before he proposed. Of all the enormous stresses he'd experienced over his career as the Batman, very few came close to the planning process and lead-up to the wedding. Juggling all the arrangements with his usual case load and running Wayne Enterprises was…well, let's just say he was very happy to have a loving fiancé waiting for him at home at the end of the day.

And now, he was face-to-face with a loving wife that, barring some catastrophe, would be by his side for the rest of his life. He held her a little tighter at that thought, once again forcing himself to shut down a thousand and one worst-case scenarios that immediately ran through his head. He felt soft lips against the side of his head and turned up to meet them with his. The exchange quickly heated up and, with a giggle, Diana wrapped her legs around his hips. Bruce's eyes widened when he felt his contact with the seat's cushion cease and glanced down to see them floating a few feet off the ground.

"I've always wanted to do this," Di whispered against his lips.

Bruce drew back a bit and grinned. "Sure you won't lose focus, princess? I can be pretty distracting."

Her grip on his hair tightened a bit as she flashed him a toothy smile. "That sounds like a challenge."

And with that, they set out to find the answer to Bruce's question…three or four times.

…

"Kind of strange to think you're being conceived right now."

Jason spewed a full mouth of coffee halfway across the room, falling into a fit of coughs that lasted well over a minute, at the end of which he fixed a smug Damian with a bloodshot glare. " _Thank_ you for that mental image."

Damian shrugged, flipping through another page of his book. "Just saying. Time travel certainly has a way of putting things in perspective."

Jason shook his head, face completely red with embarrassment. "I'm going downstairs."

Alfred passed them with an appraising look on his way to the kitchen. "Finished with your studies, sir?"

"I think I'll finish them _away_ from annoying older brothers, thank you." He shot Damian one last glare before picking up a stack of books and papers and heading for the study.

Minutes later, he strode out the elevator to see Dick sitting at the Batcomputer, periodically clicking through a file on the main screen. Jason walked past him to a nearby desk, setting down his materials and glancing at the computer every so often.

"Whatcha workin' on?" he asked after a while.

Dick glanced his way and shook his head. "Oh no, you're not getting out of homework _that_ easy. Bruce warned me you have a tendency to go AWOL when you get bored."

"Ugh, doesn't everyone in this family?" Jason pulled up a chair next to him. "Now come on, what's the case?"

Dick gave him a hard look before sighing and shaking his head. "Not a case per se. Just a weird feeling. There's an event being hosted tonight by the mayor at the Gotham Royal Hotel."

Jason blinked and thought for a second. "Oh yeah, she's up for reelection next year, right?"

"Right. So she's starting her campaign ahead of the curve."

"What's so weird about that?"

"The sheer cost, mostly. It's not just the location, but the catering, the staff…everything about this is way too expensive for someone of her means, even with the city's backing."

Jason frowned. "You think she's taking kickbacks under the table?"

Dick's head shook. "First thing I did was pull her financials; she's as clean as you get. When I took a closer look at the event itself, I found an anonymous sponsor attached to it that's footing over ninety-five percent of the bill."

"How big _is_ the bill?"

He snorted and nodded at the screen. "See for yourself."

Jason's eyebrows steadily climbed upward. "Wow. Okay. This for an event that's not even during campaign season? Do we know who's backing her? Because I'm guessing it's not us."

"Nope, no contributions from Wayne Enterprises directly or through any of our shells. And that's all I'm finding the further I dig into the source of the cash, just a lot of dummies."

Jason frowned. "Bummer." He turned back to his textbook for a second, marking something down. "What are you gonna do?"

Dick leaned back in his seat. "Not sure. Maybe it's nothing, just the mayor making some new friends, but this kind of intervention usually only happens if someone powerful wants something. I need to know who this new player is."

"You could always ask the mayor politely."

He barked a laugh and ruffled Jason's hair. "I might if I thought that would work." He sat quietly for a few seconds before sighing hard. "Ah, I might just sit on it to make sure nothing goes wrong. Hell, I should probably do that anyway. The mayor's in a room filled with the city's rich and powerful." He gave Jason a sideways look. "And like we saw last week, a scenario like that is bound to attract violent opportunists."

Jason frowned and turned back to his studies, sensing the unspoken questions that had persisted since the night of the wedding. When Deadshot had failed to answer those questions to satisfaction even under the Lasso of Truth, they'd been leveled at Jason, who had grasped the situation before anyone else even knew what was happening. He'd resolutely refused to answer except for two words: time travel. Which effectively shut down that line of questioning whenever it arose.

"Hey," Jason said after a while, "you need any backup on this stakeout?"

Dick shrugged. "I'll probably bring Damian along just to be sure."

Jason sighed hard. "I'm not grounded, you know. And I'm a lot faster and stronger than both of you."

"Also a lot quicker to jump the gun, which is a liability when dealing with crowds of civilians. If something does pop off tonight, I'll need someone who can act with subtlety to eliminate threats without collateral damage. You might have the power, but you have almost no experience and a _very_ hot head."

He threw his hands up. "Then bring us _both_ along, I don't care. I'll never get that experience unless I learn, right?"

Dick gave him a long look and sighed. "We'll see."

Jason frowned and turned back to his books, staring at the pages, but not really reading the words. His mind was too far occupied by memories of the wedding reception, which had been held on the Justice League Watchtower. After the initial ceremony, all the journalists and guests who weren't in the loop had been effectively ousted from Wayne Manor, leaving the rest the opportunity to escape to the Batcave and teleport into orbit. That in itself was a double-edged sword, at least from Jason's point of view. On the one hand, they were free to operate and celebrate as they saw fit; on the other, there was no escape from any number of awkward situations aside from teleporting out.

Or, in Jason's case, running to the other side of the Watchtower.

…

 _Jason's blue eyes widened when he caught sight of a familiar shock of blonde hair in his peripheral vision, a mild flash of panic surging through his veins until he turned toward it to see only the monotonous passing of the crowd. A sigh of relief left his lungs, but he turned back around and stopped in his tracks when he came face-to-face with two giant blue eyes set in a smiling face that seemed to glow with joy._

 _"Hi!" she grinned. She stuck out her hand and took his reluctant one. "I'm Kara."_

 _Jason blinked twice and cleared his throat. "Kara Zor-El, yes. Pleasure to uh…meet you."_

 _"Likewise!" She frowned in focus for a second. "You're Jason, yes?"_

 _"Mhm, that's me." Jason started looking anywhere, everywhere but at her, looking for a way out without seeming impolite. "Just your garden variety Wayne."_

 _"From the future."_

 _He blinked and stared at her in confusion._

 _She shrugged. "Bruce and Di told the rest of the League." Kara frowned a bit. "Did they not tell you?"_

 _"No, I just…didn't know you were privy to that meeting. Thought it was only founding members."_

 _Kara waved around at the crowd. "Well,_ everyone's _here tonight, and nobody's batting an eyelash at you."_

 _He shrugged. "Guess I just thought that was because they didn't know who I was."_

 _She giggled. "Pretty sure they all know but you're just a little too intimidating to approach."_

 _Jason arched an eyebrow. "What about you?"_

 _Kara shrugged and kept smiling. "_ This _girl's bulletproof."_

 _He nodded slowly, spotting Alfred passing with a tray of_ hors d'oeuvres _. "Uh huh. Ooh, cheese puffs." And with that, he beat a hasty retreat and proceeded to stuff his face with cheesy goodness._

…

 _For most of the night, Dinah had stayed by the constantly refilling champagne trays, periodically sipping on hers and watching the happy couple with a subdued smile. That is, until a familiar strong grip locked onto her hand when her champagne hand was empty and pulled her onto the dance floor. When she came face-to-face with her kidnapper, she smiled and shook her head, relaxing into a slow sway and step._

 _He didn't speak until a good minute later, when the music had mellowed out. "You looked like you needed some cheering up."_

 _"You're not wrong," she replied with a sigh._

 _His grip on her back tightened with his lips. "He should've been here."_

 _Her face fell even further. "You don't have to remind me of that, Cade."_

 _"It won't be forever."_

 _Dinah huffed. "They call it a 'life sentence' for a reason, Drake."_

 _He drew back and met her eyes with hard brown ones that seemed almost black in their intensity. "It_ won't _be forever, Dinah. I promise you that. And what do I say about my promises?"_

 _Dinah smiled and shook her head, leaning against him. "You keep them."_

 _"Always. Connor needs his father around, and you need your husband, Green Arrow or not."_

 _"Does that mean you'll take it on long-term? Because I don't think he'd be able to stop himself."_

 _"No, but I can't afford to explain the specifics to you."_

 _Dinah frowned. "Why?"_

 _Caden smirked. "Two words, Ms. District Attorney: plausible deniability. Everyone knows you're the Black Canary, and with that Anti-Vigilante nonsense in place, Watson will be constantly looking over your shoulder, waiting for you to step out of line. If my plan is going to work, I_ need _you in place as DA. But I_ promise _you: this_ will _work." He smiled warmly. "Do you trust me?"_

 _Dinah sighed and relaxed against him. "Always."_

 _He nodded against her head. "Then just relax and dance. I'll take care of the rest."_

…

 _"Hey, Diana!"_

 _She turned from a whispered conversation with Bruce to see a frowning Kara approaching. Bruce threw her a mildly peeved look, and the teenager smiled apologetically._

 _"Sorry, mind if I borrow her for a second?"_

 _Bruce glanced at Diana before shrugging. "Only a second."_

 _Diana threw him a smile and sidled off with Kara._

 _"Question: is Jason…antisocial?"_

 _She blinked. "A little standoffish, maybe, but I wouldn't call him antisocial."_

 _"Then…why does he keep avoiding me? Even_ Damian _doesn't scare him off."_

 _Diana snorted. "Jason has a tolerance for Damian's…unique attitude that surpasses even my own. Comes from growing up with him, I think."_

 _Kara shuddered. "I can't even imagine. Or maybe I just don't want to."_

 _Diana smiled sympathetically. "Jason has some issues to work through; spend five minutes with him and anyone can see that. Just give him time." She patted her shoulder. "You're an easy person to warm up to." Diana met her eyes firmly. "And a good friend to have."_

 _Kara smiled and turned away, nodding. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to…you know."_

 _Diana sighed wistfully. "Yeah…it'll take some getting used to for sure."_

 _"You two have lived together for years though."_

 _"Well yes, but half and half. Half in Gateway City, half in Gotham. Now…my home is with Bruce." She huffed. "And though I couldn't be happier about that, it's going to be…interesting, balancing my responsibilities across the board."_

 _Kara chuckled. "Shouldn't be a problem for someone who can move as fast as you."_

 _Diana smiled. "Well, you would know."_

 _Her face fell a bit. "Yeah…if only."_

 _Diana frowned and gripped her shoulder in reassurance. "I heard about Five…I'm sorry Kara."_

 _She sniffed a bit and shook her head. "It's fine. I think…I think a part of me always knew it wouldn't work out long-term. I mean, we're from completely different times, were never even meant to meet in the first place, so…"_

 _"That doesn't make it any easier."_

 _Her head shook miserably._

 _Diana's lips pursed as she pulled the girl into a tight embrace. "You're going to be okay, Kara. Everything's going to be all right."_

 _She gave Diana a watery smile and nod, her voice cracking. "I know, I know. It's just…gonna take some time."_

 _"Just don't try to run from that pain by constantly trying to rationalize it away. Let yourself grieve."_

 _She nodded into Diana's shoulder and pushed away gently. "I will." She smiled. "Thanks, Di."_

 _Diana playfully ruffled her hair and smiled back. "Anytime."_

…

Getting suited up always gave Jason plenty of time to think, despite the fact that he was quicker and quicker about it every time. Perk—and curse—of having a mind three times as fast as a normal human. Or perhaps faster, given his ability to dodge and deflect bullets. The problem of Kara Zor-El was an interesting one. Bulletproof she may have been, but her heart was another story. Less than a month earlier, she'd broken up with one of her only longtime boyfriends, one Brainiac-5 of the 31st century. From his record of history, Jason knew that grief would drive her to become one of the best and fiercest members of the Justice League.

Of all the things he intended to change in the past, that wasn't one.

Turning his mind to focus on the present situation, he set his mind on his recollection of this time in Gotham and drew a blank of anything noteworthy happening on this particular night. For that reason alone, he flew off to the mayor's soiree in a relaxed state, unlike his two companions. Nightwing and Robin set up on the roof of the hotel within sight of the wall-to-wall windows of the ballroom in use, right up close to drop into the action at the drop of a hat. Jason was perched a little further away, on a high-end tower of condos overlooking the hotel in its entirety. He would periodically circle the Royal to get a bird's-eye view of the place and update the others, but everything remained all clear from the skies.

Dick was listening in on what was happening in the ballroom using a laser mic and transmitting what he heard to the rest of the team. Apparently, the mayor was starting her campaign early with a low-income outreach initiative in Park Row to pad her resume.

"Less than a month ago," she said, "Gotham City got a firsthand glimpse of what happens when you pair the extreme poverty found in these areas with remnants of organized crime."

Damian snorted. "Remnants?"

Jason grunted in agreement.

The mayor continued her speech. "This program is designed to prevent families like the Markans from being exploited by criminals like Tammany Iles by offering them affordable alternatives to housing, employment, and other necessities so often unaddressed with the city's less fortunate."

"Noble as that may sound," Damian intoned, "all the programs in the world won't do a damn thing unless there's trust to go with it. For too long what passes for authority in this city has been as corrupt as the mob, maybe more so. At least with criminals, they feel they know what they're getting into."

"But it's been years since the mob was a ruling force in Gotham," Jason countered.

"That may be," Dick agreed, "but old habits are hard to break. When you've lived in the dirt as long as they have, it becomes hard to tell diamonds from broken glass."

Jason frowned, but didn't disagree. He had his own issues with the mayor's pitch, but most of them had to do with using Lindsey and her family as the poster children for a campaign prop. Granted, that didn't invalidate anything she was saying about the abysmal living conditions in Park Row, but something about it just struck him the wrong way. He supposed an innate hatred for politics, even well-meaning, ran through all the Wayne heirs.

"Let this ribbon be only the first boundary we cut down on our city's path to a new golden age!"

And with a snip of red, the banquet began in full swing.

…

"Hawaii's night life is so much more…relaxed than Gotham, don't you think?"

Bruce shrugged as he sipped his martini. "I guess that happens when you live on an island with this weather year round."

Diana giggled. "Instead of constant rain, snow, and hail."

He smiled and nodded, tugging her a little closer into his side. She curled an arm around his back and laid her head on his shoulder, eyes closed to drink in the music and ambience. Given that he'd never traveled to Hawaii for pleasure, Bruce had never had the opportunity to tour Hawaii's night life with the object of actually having a good time. Which was how they ended up bar hopping for close to an hour before finding a place that suited their tastes. A little loud but classy, with a VIP section that allowed them to avoid being bothered and colored lights that threw off the eyes enough to prevent Bruce from being recognized and swarmed by paparazzi.

Of course, that didn't stop admirers of either gender from bugging both of them when the other wasn't around. Which was why they were practically joined at the hip now. Bruce didn't consider himself a jealous man—and was certainly more secure in his relationship with Diana than he'd ever been with anyone else—but her divine level of beauty prompted the more inebriated or outright foolish patrons to engage in pick-up attempts that tickled his near-constant itch to smash skulls. An itch curbed only by Diana's amused laughter and prompt shutdown of any attempts to come onto her. In Bruce's case, just the sight of Diana returning to his side quickly sent any potential admirers gaping back into the shadows.

As he took another sip of his drink and nuzzled Diana's forehead, something in his peripheral vision caught his eye and he glanced that way to see something that sent all kinds of red flags up. He nudged his wife and nodded in that direction to get a second opinion from someone whose tolerance for alcohol far exceeded his own. She blinked at the focused look on his face and adopted one of her own a moment later when she saw what he had. They exchanged a brief look and nod before setting their drinks down and splitting up.

The gift—and curse—of being the World's Greatest Detective was the ability to see _everything_ and forget _nothing_. Even in a situation like this, far removed from his normal playground and supposedly out for a relaxing night with his new bride, he couldn't turn the Batman off. As Bruce pilfered a drink from someone who wasn't looking and "drunkenly" stumbled into a pair of shady men keeping a group of college girls "company," he didn't have the heart to regret that particular fact. Especially not after he saw the tiny pills they slipped into the drinks sitting at the table when the girls weren't looking.

While they were distracted by Bruce's loud arrival, Diana quickly explained the situation to the intended victims and quietly escorted them elsewhere. Once they were out of danger—and the strobe lights were in full swing—Bruce sobered up right quick and struck one of the scum in the windpipe with his left palm while his right hand reached for the switchblade in his target's lapel and held it against the other man's carotid artery.

"Let's talk outside," Bruce growled, "shall we?"

…

"What are you doing?"

The sudden question by Damian snapped Jason's attention away from Angry Birds for a moment before he returned to his assault on pig-kind.

"Going back over the hotel's recent transaction history," Dick answered. "Something keeps nagging at me and I can't put my finger on it. They contracted renovations from a local company about two months ago for the floors of and around the ballroom. Then, less than two weeks ago, more were contracted from a separate company I've never heard of."

Jason perked up. "Is that so strange?"

Dick's voice sharpened when he answered a moment later. "Stranger still when you consider they were bought and paid for by the same shell corp. that bankrolled this event."

Damian was the next to speak. "Where exactly was that auxiliary work done?"

"Same floors as before, wide area. Lots of ground to cover. Split up and start searching; something's wrong with this picture and we need to find it now."

Jason tucked his phone away and launched himself off his rooftop perch, flying to a balcony access point near the search area. His cowl's HUD showed the locations of Robin and Nightwing, allowing him to move opposite them in a grid search of one posh room after another. Nothing seemed out of place except how spick-and-span it all was; barely a scrap of dust and perfectly ordered without a bit of clutter, not even in the storage or utility closets. It was like Alfred had spent an afternoon shaping it up. He stopped short and turned his eyes upward to the sub-ceiling. If the ground level was this immaculate, perhaps it was a means of distracting from something a little more out of sight.

He pushed up one of the foam squares and floated into the dark sub-ceiling, glancing this way and that and finding nothing out of the ordinary. Except—he took a closer look at one of the support pillars that stuck out through the bottom and peered around its backside. His eyes widened in alarm when he verified his suspicions.

"Uh, guys, we have a problem. I don't think those workers were putting in new drywall. Not unless they were mixing it with—"

"Plastique," Dick interrupted, "yeah. Just found a charge stuck to a support pillar."

"Same. Where are you?"

"The floor above the ballroom—directly above."

"I'm on the floor below."

"Whoever planted them must intend to pancake the ballroom and its occupants," Damian interjected.

"It's safe to assume these two aren't the only bombs in play," Nightwing added. A few seconds passed before he spoke again. "There's a dual transmitter-receiver attached to this thing; it must be networked to the other bombs, but I'm not getting an outgoing signal."

"It must not transmit until they're armed," said Jason.

"Then we'll have to find them the old-fashioned way. Keep searching and mark down the locations of any bombs you find. I'll keep a monitor on this one in case they go live."

"We should evacuate the event," Damian said.

"Get on it then, and call Gordon for the bomb squad."

"Why me?" he practically whined.

"It was your idea, Rob," Jason teased.

A temperamental grumble sounded from his end of the line as Jason sprinted from one room to another, tearing apart the sub-ceiling and using his cowl to analyze the bomb components. Finding a metallic component with a particular vibrational resonance, he tuned his cowl to pick it up on sonar and pinpointed the locations of a dozen other charges on his level alone.

"Nightwing," he said as he carefully removed the housing cover of a bomb's control panel, "there are way too many to disarm. We might be better off moving them to minimum safe distance."

"You want to fly them out?"

"I mean, I _could_ , or we could net them all and send them into the harbor on the Batwing."

"That could work unless they're linked by GPS or pressure sensors on their current location. Moving them could set them off."

Damian cut in. "You said they weren't transmitting to each other, so as long as there's no pressure sensor, they should be safe to move."

"Time to check for one, then," Nightwing replied as Jason did the same on his end.

Jason's fingers gingerly traced the underside of the satchel, searching for any exposed wires or telltale traces of metal. He tuned his cowl's lenses to scan for any electromagnetic anomalies that might indicate a failsafe trip that could set the bomb off if tampered with. On the right side, he found a loose wire and felt his blood run cold when he found it leading up into the floor above. When he rushed over to another charge, he found the same thing and used his EM vision to trace the connection.

"Nightwing, are you seeing this?"

"Yep. The charges are connected directly to the building's power grid. If they're disconnected or a blackout hits the hotel, they'll go off."

Damian cut in. "We could still use an EMP. It might blackout the building, but it should also fry the detonator."

Jason's head shook though Robin couldn't see. "No good. From what I can see of this particular failsafe, it's mechanical, not electronic. There's a spring-loaded mechanism connected to a motor, keeping an ignition plate away from the C4; if it loses power, the whole thing goes boom."

"Then evacuation is looking better and better," Damian replied grimly. "Assuming the bomber doesn't set it off as soon as they see these people leaving."

Static came from Nightwing's end for a few seconds before he spoke up. "Wait. I've seen this trigger configuration before; the receiver has about a half-mile radius, and there's a time-delay of roughly thirty seconds after it's armed before it can be detonated."

"So…what?" Jason asked. "We wait for the bomber to activate the network, then trace the signal and hope we get there in time?"

"Thirty seconds doesn't give us a lot of room," Damian added, "especially if they activate it from half a mile away."

"I can cover that in a matter of seconds," Jason shot back. "Just need a clear path. And a plan B."

"Robin," said Nightwing, "alert Gordon to the situation and tell him to keep any evacuation on standby. If worse comes to worst, the stairwells are their best bet for survival; no sub-ceiling to hide explosives."

"Got it," he said.

"Jas—"

"Knight," Jason corrected.

"…Knight?"

"Only codenames in the field, remember?"

"And you picked Knight?"

"Actually, Lindsey Markan did. It's a work in progress."

"…fair enough. Knight, you stay near an exit and get ready to book it when that transmission comes in. It'll take a few seconds to trace the signal, so you'll have less than thirty seconds to reach the bomber and get the detonator."

"Roger." Jason's heart thundered in his chest as he made his way to a nearby window and perched himself on the sill.

"I'm going to set up a wide-band radio jamming system on the ballroom floor," Robin chimed in. "It won't be powerful enough to cover the whole area in question and might not even overlap with the trigger frequency, but it might delay full activation and buy you a few seconds once the trace is done."

Jason nodded. "Got it, thanks."

"Trace system in place. All we can do now is wait."

And that, Jason decided, was the absolute worst part.

…

Diana always knew she would never have a normal honeymoon, but this was a special kind of odd. What they'd initially taken for a pair of scum looking to score easy had turned up something else entirely after a few minutes of the bad cop, worse cop treatment. More specifically, the building they were currently perched over like a pair of tropical sentinels. The contrast of stern focus and the floral print shirt Bruce was wearing might've made her laugh had the situation not been so serious.

"I count three vans," she said after a long silence.

His head shook a bit. "Four. One for security, not transport."

Diana frowned and glanced where he nodded. "No plates."

He hummed. "The transports have stolen plates to avoid attention. If they roll out the security van, they're expecting trouble."

"And they'd prefer something to ditch without it being traced, even to the wrong vehicle."

Another nod. "How do you want to play this?"

Diana smirked. "Letting me lead?"

A ghost of a smile flickered over his lips. "Lady's choice tonight."

She turned back to the building and let the smile slip from her face as her eyes peered over the panorama before them. Below their somewhat precarious position atop a radio tower was a small warehouse with greased-out windows and a small fleet of vans with similarly darkened windows parked out front. A hurried, balding man stormed out of the warehouse's metal side door with a phone pressed to his ear. Diana glanced over at Bruce to remind herself that he had no mask, belt, or any of his usual gadgetry. In fact, she didn't even think he had his phone on him, fully removing himself from any of the usual amenities he employed during his missions as the Batman.

It made her wonder how he would shore up the gap, because the question was never _if_ , but _how_. The few times she'd seen him operate without his suit or any form of technology to assist him had been absolutely fascinating to watch. The way he looked, the way he _moved_ …while in armor, the weight and shape of it often forced him to adapt his range of motion accordingly. But outside that, there was an unparalleled grace to his motions beyond even what he easily achieved _in_ it. He had a dancer's body, a tactician's mind…

Bruce glanced over at her with intense blue eyes as he silently motioned toward movement visible just inside the open doorway: several disoriented, half-clad boys and girls, some of whom looked no older than fifteen; being led toward the vans by two men with stockless assault rifles.

 _…and a lover's heart,_ Diana finished mentally as her heart clenched at the sight.

A final nod was exchanged between them before she silently launched herself from their perch and Bruce vanished from sight. He went low into the shadows, while she went high and hovered just above the group as it made its way to the dingy fleet of transports. Their only shot at keeping both the element of surprise and anonymity was to strike fast and hard from opposing angles. Looking around carefully, her sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement too faint and quick for mortal eyes to see in this dark. A closer look revealed Bruce crouched behind a dumpster just twenty-five feet from the furthest van.

He silently made his way to it, keeping the vehicle between him and the group for concealment. This way, he managed to close to around fifteen feet from the leader, with his two armed guards at the opposite end of the single-file group of eight. Hushed orders were passed to the prisoners from the man with the phone as Diana exchanged a long look with her partner, her hand angling toward the two at the rear and glancing at him for approval. He gave her a small nod and tensed up for a charge as Diana did the same.

She dropped like a rock a second later, the bottoms of her fists crashing down on the heads of the guards. They hit the pavement just as their screaming boss was dragged over the hood of the van and out of sight of the frightened teenagers. Hard, fast pops carried from the other side, along with the sickening crack of breaking bones a few moments later. Apparently, someone from inside the warehouse heard his shrieks, because three more men with various firearms stormed outside on high alert.

"Down!" Diana ordered as she shoved the most vulnerable hostage to the ground and lunged toward one of the gunmen.

He planted back-first in the sheet metal wall of the warehouse a split-second later, followed quickly by the other two, who were lifted by their collars and tossed into the first one after the other. Their guns were stomped into crumpled scrap moments later, and Diana stalked her way back to the hostages, who were staring at her wide-eyed. Bruce hadn't made a reappearance, nor did she expect him to. Diana's face, especially when she was using her powers, often had a tendency of shifting to shield her identity from all but the strongest minds and keenest eyes when she wished.

This was one of the many reasons she never wore a mask when operating as Wonder Woman, and she wagered it had a great deal to do with her Olympian roots, given how often their powers altered the minds and perceptions of mortals. She looked them all over to ensure they had no serious injuries before speaking up.

"Make your way west of here and stay in the light," she said imperiously. "Flag down the first officer you see and tell them everything that happened. We'll follow at a distance to ensure you make it safely."

They exchanged hushed words and looks before one of the older-looking girls spoke up in a small voice. "Who's 'we'?"

Diana smiled enigmatically and nodded at the road. "Get going. The faster you speak to the police, the faster you return to your own beds."

They followed her advice a little slowly, but went together, a few of them glancing behind the van they'd almost been packed into to see their head captor splayed out on his back unconscious. As expected, Bruce was nowhere to be found. Diana crossed her arms and watched them pass under a dim streetlight before leaving her sightline. Quiet shuffling was heard from behind her, and she turned her head just slightly without looking back.

"Did you really have to break his jaw?" she asked, seemingly of the empty air.

A deep, gravelly voice answered from right behind her. "He interrupted my honeymoon."

Diana smirked and laced her fingers with his as she wrapped her other arm around him and flew both of them to oversee the fleeing group. "If it wasn't this, it would've been something."

His face darkened a bit. "Sorry."

She prodded his cheek with her index. "Don't be. That irresistible urge to pursue justice is exactly why I married you. Besides, if you hadn't spotted it, I would've."

Bruce's lips twitched as he met her eyes and leaned forward to peck her lips. "That's the one part of me I never want to change."

"And I know it won't." Diana smiled wryly. "That's one shift your stubborn streak won't allow for."

They enjoyed the rest of their airborne vigil in silence, ensuring their charges remained out of danger until they found an HPD patrolman and were taken into protective custody by the backup he called. They took just enough time to double back to the crime scene and watch the perpetrators' arrest before finally retiring to their room for their well-earned reward.

…

The events that followed the activation of the bombs surrounding the mayor's soiree would later be reported as an unprovoked terrorist attack just barely averted by the efforts of two of the Batman's associates. To those two, the truth was far more worrisome for the unsung member of their team. The moment the signal came in, Nightwing began tracing the origin and Robin readied the jamming system, which was triggered as soon as they got a location. Robin burst through the doors of the ballroom a second later and interrupted the proceedings with an imperious demand that they vacate the premises with all haste.

Gordon's men—the ones that had been clued in, anyway—began doing the same as a quiet rumble was heard in the distance. Robin smirked at the sound while ushering the civilians out, the clock running down to ten seconds as he hoped the jammer did its job.

From Jason's end, his supersonic entrance in the target building caught the attention of the man holding the trigger. The sight of him immediately sent an uncontrollable chill down Jason's spine even as he charged forward and swiped at the hand holding the detonator. The evident surprise of his target slowed his response by a half-second, just long enough to swipe the device from his grip. The response that did come, however, was a lightning-fast draw of a .45 caliber pistol at his hip and rapid firing at his fast-moving form. Jason's body jolted with the shock of three hard impacts at his back as his fingers curled around the trigger mid-roll.

His left gauntlet came up to stop another two incoming rounds before a third slipped past his guard and nailed him in the shoulder. The force sent a jolt up his arm, but otherwise did no damage apart from denting his ceramic shoulder plate. Jason launched himself into a neighboring room, out of the shooter's sight, though the shots kept coming through the walls with frightening accuracy. The next two seconds were spent prone, thinking through his next move with the detonator. He couldn't afford to crush it, no matter how much he wanted to; if the construction of the bombs was any indicator, the bomb-maker (who he doubted was the man holding the trigger) would have integrated numerous failsafe mechanisms to prevent easy disarmament.

The only alternative then was getting it away from the bomber—who burst through the thin wall separating them, gun drawn and sighting him up. With one arm hobbled holding the detonator, he only had one gauntlet to block the incoming fire and favored distance to improve his chances. Jason sprung off the ground toward a nearby window, aiming to exit the building, but found himself waylaid when the shooter's other hand snapped toward said window and launched a thin-filament cable with an expanding head in the space he entered a split-second later. That head lodged itself between two of the plates on his chest and was used to yank him away from the window and into another wall.

Restraining a groan, Jason shifted his focus from escape to aggressive defense and launched himself at his enemy shoulder-first, missing wide and getting clubbed in the helmet with the butt of his gun as he glided out of the way. Rolling roughly, Jason whirled toward his opponent and remained crouched and coiled, ready to snap in any direction as he observed his enemy. The cold feeling that had slowly overtaken his body showed no signs of slowing or ebbing, especially the longer he stared back at the black-gold armor and faceplate and caught sight of the single visible eye flickering between Jason's face and the detonator.

"Hand it over and I might let you live," grated the masked man's voice.

Jason took a long moment to breathe and think over his options before replying. "I'd rather die knowing I made you _work_ for your paycheck, Slade."

Deathstroke's visible eye narrowed dangerously as he held his pistol loosely at his side, ready to snap up in a split-second. "Unwise but respectable."

Jason's lips pursed tightly, his heart hammering violently. "What's the deal here? Bombs aren't your typical MO, and this one is _definitely_ not your design."

"I have talented allies," he replied enigmatically. "Escape is impossible; do you really think you can survive me, boy?"

Jason's teeth gritted as he calculated the angle and distance to do something _really_ stupid. "God, I hope so," he muttered under his breath.

A split-second of tension alerted Deathstroke to his rapid launch back into the hallway where Jason first tackled him—and toward the broken window therein. While still flying horizontally, he drew back his right arm and angled himself just so to give himself a straight shot at the hotel. Gunshots rang out from the other room, the rounds just narrowly missing him and sending bits of wood and drywall peppering his form. Amidst the chaos, his arm snapped forward hard, sending the trigger flying through the air at just the right angle to land it on the roof—he hoped.

"Detonator coming your way!" he screamed into his comm. unit. "Find and secure it!"

Nightwing was the first to answer. "What?! Where are _you_?!"

"Fighting the bomber!" he shouted amidst successive rolls and deflects, now having both hands free to block incoming fire. "Deathstroke's here!"

"Son of a—stay away, Jason!"

"Knight!" he corrected as another .45 round shattered against his bracers.

"Whatever! Get out of there, _now_!"

"Can't—need to know why he's here!"

"That wasn't a suggestion, brother," said Robin crossly.

Jason responded by cutting their link and pouring all his focus into the fight. The bullets kept coming, now from a machine pistol he held in his offhand while his main holstered his half-empty pistol and drew a long ninjato from his back. Jason's arms became a blurry wall between his body and Deathstroke's onslaught, the deflects becoming more and more difficult the closer he got. Mid-burst, Slade rushed at him and slashed at his left side. Jason pivoted and leaned into the strike, spinning into an elbow that impacted Deathstroke's left forearm. The Knight shifted his arm and stabbed his plated elbow down at the foregrip of the machine pistol, the sheer strength of the blow knocking it from his grip.

The gun clattered to the ground and slid across the floor as they grappled in place, Slade's now-empty arm curling around his neck in a rear choke. He hoisted Jason off the ground, which increased the pressure on his larynx for about a half-second before the Knight used his flight to flip all the way over Slade. On the way down, he curled his left arm around Slade's neck in a one-armed guillotine while the other held his sword at bay. In a spectacular show of agility and flexibility, Deathstroke snapped his hips up and locked his legs around Jason's head, pivoting forward to hurl Jason back-first through the wall in front of them.

He grunted as he scrambled to his feet, eyes popping wide open and a panicked cry pulled from his throat at the incoming sword-tip. Jason snapped his neck away from the blade and fell into a crouch, rolling sideways to get some distance. His right hand went to his belt, the rhythmic clanks of his sword expanding in his grip permeating the hiss of falling sawdust. A small huff from Slade preceded an onslaught of sword strikes from all directions, forcing Jason on the defensive as he lowered and widened his stance to allow maximum flexibility. A deflect at his left leg gave him an opening to lunge forward with a pommel strike aimed at Slade's mask. Deathstroke slapped it aside and leapt upward to set up a flying roundhouse that sent Jason flying sideways into the hallway.

The Knight grunted and lunged down the hallway in a dive-roll, spinning back toward Deathstroke with his left hand in his belt and his right holding his sword at the ready. The moment Slade showed his mask, Jason threw the three batarangs in his hand in a wedge pattern that left little room to maneuver. Once again, Deathstroke demonstrated superhuman agility by leaping toward and springing up a wall, avoiding them entirely. His right leg hit the ceiling for a brief instant before he launched himself toward Jason in a falling stab. Jason lunged forward, under his falling arc, and spun to take a swing at Slade's back. Deathstroke snapped his blade to cover his back and swept Jason's sword away from his body, leaving him open to a back-kick that nailed him in the diaphragm.

 _Who the hell wrote the sims in 2033?_ Jason's teeth clenched as he shook his head. _Can't fight him on his terms._

Coiling up, Jason shifted his sword to an underhanded grip and clenched his left hand, sending three arm-blades snapping from his gauntlet. He leapt at Deathstroke, shifting his angle of attack to a wide curve that brought his sword through the wall, sending a cloud of dust and splinters to obscure Slade's vision. A sword-slash answered him through the cloud, nearly perforating his neck, but finding itself trapped between his arm-blades. Jason finally managed to drive a pommel strike into his collarbone, sending him back a step and following with an underhanded slash at his face.

The mask sustained a deep gash as he slashed through, the sword carrying the faceplate with it and exposing an aged face with salt-and-pepper complexion and a furious scowl.

Jason took one look in his eyes—eye—and felt that chill turn into something else.

"Heh," he chuckled hysterically before lunging backward, "whoops."

An onslaught of rapid-fire sword strokes assaulted him. High, low, he blocked with his gauntlets, arm-blades, his sword. Even with his advanced speed and reflexes, Jason couldn't find a single opening in Slade's form and became so focused on defending against his sword that he failed to see the low kick coming until it hit the side of his leg so hard it nearly dislocated his knee. Barely holding back a scream, Jason angled his body perpendicular to Deathstroke's vector of attack and backflipped over a wide strike that would've bisected him. On the way down, he nailed Slade in the face with a side-kick and forced him into a backward roll.

They both noticed the quiet metallic clack that sounded on Slade's impact, and Jason lunged for him, trying to prevent him from retrieving his fallen gun. He failed, but managed to divert the incoming fire into the wall rather than his body. Adding a sharp kick to Deathstroke's sword-arm, the Knight managed to get the upper hand for a moment, using that kick to set up a hook-kick that impacted his enemy's chest and sent him flying back through the hallway. A follow-up batarang perforated the machine pistol's firing mechanism and rendered it useless. Deathstroke hurled the weapon at Jason and followed it with a throwing knife of his own.

Both bounced harmlessly off his gauntlets, allowing him to lunge forward with a cascade of flying straight kicks as he spiraled his body midair. A sword-swipe and stab followed, dodged by Slade just barely with a low side-roll. On his way up, he made a slash for Jason's midsection, an attack that nearly scored a hit but was shunted in the opposite direction with a sword-parry. Slade used that momentum to chain into a crouching capoeira wheel-kick that slammed Jason's diaphragm and sent him flying back-first through a wall. He groaned and tried to push himself upright until a searing pain lanced through his right shoulder, ripping a scream from his throat.

He looked over to see Deathstroke's ninjato planted in the ground—with his shoulder as the medium. He'd apparently aimed for a tiny gap in Jason's armor and thrown the sword hard enough to run him and the wooden floor through. Slowly, menacingly, Slade stepped through the gap, one hand reattaching his mask, the other drawing his pistol. Gritting his teeth to hold back another scream, Jason grasped the hilt of the sword in his shoulder and tugged, his breath leaving him as a fresh wave of agony hit him.

"You should have walked away, boy," grated Deathstroke's filtered voice.

The click of the hammer cocking back snapped Jason's eyes to the pistol, wide with fear. As Slade's finger squeezed around the trigger, Jason's mind flashed with images from his memory, what seemed like a lifetime ago yet all too present in his recollection.

…

 _"Get him to the pad!"_

 _"Mom, what's going on?"_

 _"Bruce, power it up,_ now _!" Diana whirled to face her son, gripping him by the shoulders with frightened eyes. "Jason, listen to me—I…" she smiled sadly, panic rushing her words, "I love you. Never forget that, okay?"_

 _"Mom—Mom, what are you—"_

 _Bruce's voice came from deeper in the cave. "It's ready, go!"_

 _Jason's eyes flickered between them as his father ran around the corner toward him, a pair of batarangs clenched in his fists. "Dad?" He glanced between them in a panic when the elevator door was kicked down and a familiar tawny form stepped out. "Guys, what is—"_

 _His words were cut off when Diana shoved him onto a teleportation pad, his scream drowned in the surge of energy that enveloped and trapped him even as Cheetah rushed from the elevator. He screamed harder when the flashes of light intensified like a strobe light, giving him mere snapshots as his parents were brutally cut down. His last vision before the light consumed him entirely was the glowing golden eyes of his enemy locking with his own as she planted her fist in Bruce's chest and tore out his heart._

…

" _Grrraaaaaaah_!"

A gunshot rang out as Slade's gun misfired, having been slashed away when Jason ripped the sword from his shoulder and swung at him. His own sword came to bear, the searing pain in his shoulder no longer registering in the haze of his rage. He swung at Deathstroke repeatedly with both weapons, the assassin just barely dodging his strikes as they came faster and faster. Jason and Deathstroke's swords weaved in an endless silver whirlwind of death in the boy's hands, his anger giving him strength and speed far beyond anything he'd previously exhibited. Deathstroke withdrew in repeated backward tumbles, halting some twenty feet away and hurling a trio of kunai at the Knight.

One grazed his arm, but the other two were deflected by blade or bracer. None of them slowed him down, and one of the swords almost punched a hole through Slade's abdomen when Jason flew at him full-speed. He just barely managed to hold it back, but only because his feet left the ground. As a result, Jason carried him through several walls, then launched off the ground and sent him through three floors-worth of ceilings until they exited into the open air. A helmet-plated headbutt rattled Deathstroke's head and sent him flying down into the concrete hard enough to make a small crater.

Slade took one look at his hovering form before hitting the ground with a smoke bomb as Jason descended on him with both blades. The swords plunged into the concrete when Slade rolled away into the smoke, yanked loose a split-second later in an attempt for Jason to press his advantage. He met nothing but empty air with his lunging swings, frowning and bringing his multispectral lenses to bear. His eyes narrowed when he saw nothing in the direction Deathstroke had fled, whirling around in alarm and finding himself choking when a throat punch sent him gasping back, left hand dropping Deathstroke's sword and grasping his neck.

Slade caught his falling weapon and slashed Jason across the arm and leg, disarming and bringing him to his knees. When he tried to counterattack, Jason found himself disarmed and laid out with a kick to the head and another stab, this time to the abdomen. He'd once again found the gaps in the Knight's armor. Jason gasped and sputtered, blood popping from his lips as he pressed his left hand to the wound in his gut and stared up at Slade with wide eyes. Straightening up, Deathstroke kicked Jason's helmet off, drew his pistol, and aimed it at his head; right between his wide eyes. Jason would've gasped if he had any air left to spend. And without any further fanfare, Slade squeezed the trigger.

 _Click._

Slade's one eye blinked slowly, his right hand placing the slide of the gun against his holster in an attempt to clear the jammed chamber. He did and froze upon seeing the magazine was empty. Jason's keen eyes flickered to his belt to note there were no more spares, then to Slade's other hand to see the sword still dripping with his blood. Deathstroke grunted and holstered the empty weapon, bringing his sword to bear in an underhanded stab aimed at Jason's neck. Before he could so much as twitch, the roar of VTOL engines cracked the air from behind Deathstroke, a glance behind revealing the hovering form of the Batwing illuminating him with blinding floodlights.

Slade stared at the craft for a second before turning back to Jason's prone, bleeding form and lowering his blade. "Another time then."

He threw down another smoke pellet as Nightwing leapt from the Batwing's cockpit, vanishing into the night while the former Robin slid to a stop at Jason's side. His blue eyes were wide in panic when he saw the extent of Jason's injuries.

"Dammit, kid…" he whispered, "hold on, okay? We're gonna patch you up."

He reached down and slung Jason over his shoulders, carrying him back to the Batwing and punching the throttle as soon as he was belted in.

Jason's vision faded in and out with the blood loss, his memories sustaining substantial gaps with snippets of images: being wheeled away on a gurney, cut out of his body suit by Robin, strapped down with overlapping steel bands when he started to convulse and struggle. The last thing he saw before blacking out completely was a kindly older woman bending over him with a stethoscope and a worried look on her lips.

…

It was amidst heavy breaths and sweaty sheets that Bruce and Diana finally took a rest. Bruce glided a hand up her bare back, settling and massaging his fingers between her shoulderblades. He pressed a kiss to her temple, an act she returned on his neck, just above his collarbone.

"I love you," he rumbled softly, feeling her grip on him tighten a bit in reply.

He felt her breathy reply on his earlobe. "And I love you, Bruce." She pressed another kiss to the skin behind his ear before laying her head on his shoulder. "It's been…so long since we had time like this, just the two of us."

Bruce sensed something behind her tone and arched an eyebrow. "But?"

Diana smiled up at him ruefully. "Can't help worrying about the kids."

He frowned and sighed. "Well," he grunted, reaching over to the nightstand, "good news is: if there is a catastrophe, it'll probably be in the news."

The moment he flicked the TV on, his face sagged and paled. The pair stared at an aerial shot of the Gotham Royal Hotel surrounded by police cruisers for a moment before looking at each other. The scramble for a laptop nearly sent them tumbling to the ground when they got tangled in the sheets.

The call to Dick's phone went through after three rings, the feed from the other end was a little grainy but not enough to obscure the harried, frazzled look on his face. "Hey, guys." His tone certainly matched his face. "Guessing you saw the news?"

Bruce frowned. "What happened?"

Dick wiped a hand over his face, pulling his domino mask off and taking a seat in what looked like a deserted waiting room. "Bomb threat at the Royal." His face darkened. "Deathstroke was holding the trigger."

Diana blinked. "You think he followed you to Gotham?"

He huffed. "I wouldn't be too surprised, but I doubt it. He split as soon as I showed up."

"And the bomb?" Bruce asked.

"Bombs, plural," came a voice from the side as Damian stepped into the picture. "And they're being painstakingly disposed of by GCPD's bomb squad. Gordon has the detonator."

"Good." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But I doubt he'd have left the trigger behind without a fight."

The two on the other end had similar reactions: Damian glared at the floor with crossed arms while Dick glanced off to the side with a dark look.

"Jason got it off him," Dick admitted. "Dr. Thompkins just finished with him in surgery."

"How bad?" Bruce asked.

Dick nodded offscreen. "I'll let her tell you."

The camera panned to a short, graying older woman in a lab coat and a pulled-down medical mask. She peeled nitrile gloves off her hands and tossed them in a nearby bin before approaching the costumed pair.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins smiled at the camera with familiar ease. "Bruce, Diana, glad to see you two are doing well."

"What's the damage, Li?" Diana asked without preamble.

The doctor sighed and shook her head. "Perforated shoulder and abdomen, with significant lacerations to the latter. Add to that a few minor cuts around the arms, significant bruising across the board, and massive blood loss; and any normal person would be laid up in a coma for weeks, if not months."

"But?" Bruce queried.

She smirked. "He's one tough cookie; I understand he gets that from both sides of the family."

"Yo! Dicky-bird!" came a distant voice in the background.

Bruce's eyebrows hiked upward as Diana's widened dramatically.

"He's _awake_?" asked the latter.

Leslie nodded with a sigh. "Burned through the anesthesia the same way you would've." She glanced at the other two. "Would you like to see him?"

"Oi! You ignoring me?! I know you're there! I can _seeee_ you!"

"He can't," Damian grumbled absently.

Dick sighed. "Pretty sure he's just gonna keep screaming his head off until we do."

With a resigned sigh, Leslie motioned for them to follow, and the camera feed bounced as they turned down the halls, arriving in a post-op room moments later to see a wickedly grinning Jason with his hands suspiciously tucked under the sheets. The moment Dick showed his face, he snapped his hand out and beaned him in the head with a crumpled paper. Dr. Thompkins reached out and took the ball from a sighing Dick, frowning when she unfurled it.

"Did you crumple your medical sheet?"

Jason shrugged with a blank look on his face. "Don't think I'm ev'n s'posed to be awake r'now," he waved his arms around wildly with each slur, "so I can't be held respons'ble."

"Jason," Bruce said with a frown. "Can you hear me?"

He leaned forward a bit and squinted at the phone. "Oh. Hey Dad. Hey Mom." He pointed at something just to the side of the camera. "Dami said I was being conceived right now. Am I?"

They both stared at the screen, wide-eyed and red-faced. Dick, apparently, knew better than to let them answer and interrupted with a cough.

"See guys? He's gonna be just fine." Dick turned the phone away from Jason to face himself. "Now, I'm not sure how late it is over there, but we're gonna get some sleep and take a closer look at this case in the morning. No worries; we got this."

They could hear bickering in the background that sounded like Jason and Damian.

Diana frowned crookedly. "Are you sure?"

He waved dismissively, wincing as something was thrown offscreen. "Yeah, no rushing to get back." He grinned, all teeth. "We got this."

Diana and Bruce shared a long look until he shrugged and faced the laptop. "If you're sure."

"Mhm, have fun."

Dick's eyes went wide a moment later as Jason cackled maniacally and Dr. Thompkins let out an exasperated, "Mr. Wayne—"

The feed was cut before she could finish. The newlyweds stared at the black screen for another couple seconds before facing each other and shrugging.

"He said no rush," Diana said with a teasing lilt to her voice.

"Agreed," Bruce replied in the same tone, tucking the laptop away. "Now," he grunted as he rolled back over to envelop her in his arms, "where were we?"

Diana turned into him with a warm smile, her hands on his bare chest. "Right here, handsome."

She leaned up and grinned, kissing him for the umpteenth time that night. If the room heated up a minute later in their continued attempts to prove Damian right, no one could rightly blame them.

…

Hours later, when Dick and Damian had gone home to rest and Dr. Thompkins had left Jason to do the same, his eyes slid open slowly, peering around the room. After confirming no other occupants, he frowned and reached over to a nearby tray table that held his phone and jacket. In a secret compartment in that jacket lay the time-capsule from 2033, which he plugged into his phone and waited to decrypt. The moment it did, he pulled up the timeline and checked Gotham's historical record for that night. He blinked once, twice, and refreshed the phone in disbelief.

When it finished, another five-second, openmouthed stare preceded a tightening of his jaw and the opening of another app on his phone: a voice recorder that would save directly onto the time-capsule. Over a dozen entries had already been recorded; this would be the thirteenth. Jason checked around, slipping on the nearby collar of his suit and using his cowl's lenses to double-check for any bugs or eavesdroppers. Then he activated the transcription and began to speak to the still air.

"August 25, 2017. Jason Thomas Wayne, begin record." He took a long, deep breath, passing a hand through his hair. "It's been almost a month since my arrival. Far as I know, my actions have had no visible impact on the timeline." He frowned. "Until tonight. I just awoke from surgery following direct conflict with Slade Wilson, AKA Deathstroke, in an attempt to prevent him from bombing the Gotham Royal Hotel. Historical records from 2033 show that not only was there no such bomb threat, but the event he targeted was nonexistent—it never even _happened_.

"With relatively minimal interaction with the world at large, to have such a major deviance is…worrisome. I worry that I may be interfering too much—or perhaps not enough—to accomplish my central mission. I'll have to keep a weather eye out for any other such occurrences." A heavy sigh passed his lips. "Although I'm not sure it would make a difference either way. After all, the whole point is to _change_ the timeline, right?" Jason stared absently off to the side. "After Barry told me about Flashpoint, I couldn't help but wonder: what if he'd stayed? What if Wally, Jr., hadn't been critically injured? What if the world hadn't been on the brink of World War III? Would remaining in that timeline really have been so bad?

"I get the dangers of time travel, of meddling with…cosmic forces beyond mortal understanding…but so did Damian. He knew how much things could—and would—change if I went this far back. And he still let me." Jason's lips pursed tightly. "Did he just not care? Or did he know something I didn't?" Silence enveloped the room for a good twenty seconds before he spoke again. "I guess I'll never know now. For better or worse, I'm stuck here for good."

He looked over at the tray table to see one of Deathstroke's kunai, Damian's gift to him as a "souvenir" of the successful mission. A smile quirked his lips.

"Well…this isn't so bad." He blinked a few times, feeling exhaustion creep up on him, though he couldn't tell whether it was from the drugs or his body's attempt to heal. "Hm," he grunted, shaking himself awake to finish. "J. Wayne, logging off."

He closed the log and unplugged the drive from his phone, the device's software automatically wiping any record of the file. Jason had just enough juice left in him to tuck the time-capsule back in its compartment in his jacket and lay back before he passed out.

* * *

AN: I am _so_ sorry guys. I wish I had a sufficient excuse for how unbelievably late this was in coming, but the truth is: I enjoyed my winter break very much. Also, I hadn't had a ton of pre-planning done when I started this story, which is a pretty big no-no for me if I want to keep my flow. I've gotten most of that out of the way by now, so I have quite a bit of the story outlined and whatnot. I'm hoping that'll give me the framework I need to start really pumping it out.

Caution: I _am_ just starting a new major, and that is currently occupying a ton of my time; very full class schedule. Have to hit all green lights if I want to graduate sometime this century, so I can't afford to slack off. That said, the new major is almost entirely reliant on my ability to write, so I'm hoping that it'll give me new ideas and plenty of practice to be of better use in stories like this.

Considering I spent well over a month working on this chapter, I'm hoping that it came out halfway decent. There tends to be some lack of cohesion if I really space out my writing sessions for a chapter, or at least I feel that way. So let me know if something doesn't make sense or there are any obvious plot holes. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed Jason's second case. Less of an investigation than an operation, but still relevant to later cases, as you'll come to see.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Captain America: the Winter Soldier - Fury: Knight vs Deathstroke/flashback/rage and impalement


	8. The 'Other' Side of the Family

Keen, honey-gold eyes darted back and forth across several curved-screen TVs arrayed in front of a swivel chair designed more like a throne. The occupant of that chair looked on with steepled fingers, a concentrated frown creasing his lips. The olive skin around his eyes crinkled as they narrowed briefly at the sight of a rooftop confrontation being played back for the sixth time. Two floodlit figures were shown on a grainy feed being overlooked by a jet-black aircraft hovering in place, one standing over the other threateningly. The feed cut back to a newscaster moments later, and his attention was lost as he leaned back in his seat.

Quiet, nearly-imperceptible clicks sounded from behind him, indicating an approaching figure.

A dull _thump_ followed a moment later, and golden-eyes turned his gaze to see a large black duffel bag sitting on a long table on his left. He turned a little further, angling his chair just enough to see the armored figure that had just been on-screen. He glanced at the bag in a silent question.

"Returning the fee," Slade's mask-altered voice grated. "The mission was a failure."

Golden-eyes' lips quirked just barely, but enough to be noticed.

"…you _expected_ this." Slade blinked slowly, eye narrowing. "You expected _him_."

He faced Deathstroke directly. "Of course. I have no stake in Gotham's petty politics…" his smile showed in full now, "but you can't catch a shark without the right bait."

Slade's arms crossed. "And was that the banquet…or me?"

His only response was a shrug.

Deathstroke was silent for a few moments before he uncrossed his arms. "We're done."

The seated man arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

A slow nod preceded Slade's near-growling explanation. "It's one thing for my employers not to tell me the whole story; I've come to expect it. Blatantly lying to make me into target practice for the Bat's newest protégé is something else entirely." His left hand reached out to take the duffel. "Find someone else to be your pawn."

"I like to think you were more knight than pawn," said golden-eyes with a smirk. When Slade made no reply or sign of even acknowledging him, his smirk faded. "I'm not someone to be walked away from so blithely," he added softly, but with an underlying danger to his tone as his eyes seemed to flicker for a moment.

Slade stopped mid-step to turn a threatening glare on the seated man. "And I'm not someone who takes kindly to threats."

The two stared at each other for a tense couple of seconds before golden-eyes sighed and waved dismissively, eyes rolling in indifference. "As you will. Take your fee and go. As you said, there will always be others to fill your role."

He turned his chair back toward the TVs and resumed his perusal of Gotham news until a voice from behind caught his attention.

"Small piece of advice," came Slade's voice in a warning tone. "If you intend to cross the Batman, you better have more than money and empty threats as a shield."

A moment or two of silence passed before the quiet clicks of his exit carried across the room.

The man in the chair just smiled.

…

It took Jason a little less than a week to fully recover from his injuries. In that time, he made Dr. Thompkins, and later Dick; half-insane between his bedridden antics and halfhearted attempts at escape. Inaction had never sat well with him, just on a physiological level, so being confined to a single space or position had him stir-crazy inside an hour. And there was only so much homework or reading he could do to stave that off. It was fortunate for his caretakers that he needed so much sleep to recover, or else they'd have had to watch him in one-hour shifts just to keep up. When he was finally discharged, Jason hit his training harder than ever, using every amenity the Batcave had to offer.

By then, Bruce and Diana had returned from Hawaii, the latter of whom had gotten a long, intense look from Jason. In spite of his embarrassment, he knew Damian had been right about one thing. That look hadn't gone unnoticed, though they'd resolutely avoided talking about it. Even if they "knew," discussing it wouldn't help anyone. All they could do now was wait. Bruce and Dick had compared notes on the Gotham Royal bombing as a means of getting him up to speed on the Deathstroke case before Dick returned to Blüdhaven. With his, Damian's, and Jason's reports; a fairly clear picture had begun to form.

However, after attempting to trace the origins of the Decembrists, the shell corporation that paid for the renovations and event, the case had hit a dead end. Without any further data, finding Deathstroke's employer would remain all but impossible. And without knowing the Decembrists' end of things, there was no money trail leading to Slade. For now, they would have to content themselves with the knowledge that his contract had failed with minimal collateral damage. Although the "collateral damage" had been making Alfred very nervous by periodically tossing his souvenir into a thick dartboard in the kitchen that bore several dozen scars already.

Jason remembered three kunai having been thrown his way. He suspected Damian had given him the one that had nicked him in the arm; it was just morbid enough to fit his personality. Plus, it wouldn't do for GCPD to get his blood on record, though there had certainly been enough spilt at the scene. At any rate, Jason's days consisted almost entirely of school and training with Diana as a means of testing his strength and responsiveness. It was after nearly a week of this that an idea occurred to her. A day and one _very_ awkward conversation later, and she came to Jason to pitch this idea.

"Jason," she greeted.

He hummed absently, chewing on half a mango as he thumbed through a textbook midair.

"Do…" Diana hesitated a moment, glancing at a nearby Bruce, who was masking his attention. "Do you remember your grandmother?"

His jaw froze halfway around his next bite and mouth twisted into a small frown as he looked over at her. "I'm guessing we're talking about the one on your side."

She nodded silently.

Jason looked up and away in thought. "Can't say I do."

Diana blinked.

"Did she not come to visit often?" Bruce asked from across the study.

Jason's head shook. "I can't remember her visiting at _all_."

"And that didn't strike you as odd?" asked his mother.

He sighed and flipped the book closed. "Of course it did. I asked about her plenty, even theorized she was dead like Nan Martha." A frown creased his lips. "But I never got a straight answer for fifteen years." He shrugged. "I figured you two had a falling out—or she disapproved of having a grandson instead of a granddaughter."

Diana frowned and exchanged a long look with Bruce. "If I'm being honest, either one is probably just as likely."

Jason blinked and stared at her intently for a second. "You want to change that."

She bit her lower lip. "I had a talk with my mother yesterday, asked if she'd be willing to host you for a few days."

His eyes widened comically. "You mean—on Themyscira?" He stopped floating and hit the deck feet-first, practically stumbling over himself in excitement. "Like, actually send me to Themyscira? To train with—are you serious?"

Diana smiled at his enthusiasm and caught Bruce's smirk in her peripheral vision. "As a matter of fact, yes. Your fighting style is similar to theirs, as expected, but needs refinement." She frowned a little. "As does your temper."

Jason blinked.

"I saw the recording of your fight with Deathstroke, and the tail end of your battle with Cheetah. Not to mention how you nearly lost it during your confrontations with Iles."

"So?" he asked, crossing his arms defensively.

"So, your rage gave you a boost in strength and speed but cost you significantly in technique and rationality. The moment you lose control of yourself, you lose control of the fight, and Deathstroke took advantage of that with a counterattack that nearly got you killed."

Jason stared at her hard, glancing at Bruce's reinforcing gaze. A hard sigh passed his lips. "Fair enough. And you think training with the Amazons will help?"

She nodded. "If anyone will understand how to help you channel that, it's my sisters."

"And…your mom likes this idea?"

Diana's lips pursed tightly. "She's not opposed to it."

Jason threw her a deadpan look. "That's not the same thing."

She sighed. "I know, but she _is_ family, and you've told me in the past that you intend to fix your future. Perhaps this can be a starting point for that."

He thought about it for a while before smiling a little. "Fair enough."

…

"What have you been _learning_ out there?"

Kara nearly cringed at Philippus' scolding tone. "It's called 'street fighting,' Phil."

The imposing, dark-skinned woman frowned and crossed her arms in disapproval. "It's crap. No wonder you came back." She reached to a nearby weapons rack and tossed Kara a sword while she brandished one of her own. "You need a refresher."

Her body fell into a familiar stance as years-old training kicked in.

"Defend yourself, Kara Zor-El!"

Kara grit her teeth, blocking high, to the side, and twisting away from Philippus' onslaught of blows. The Amazon general practically chased her around the ring, periodically switching her grip from overhand to underhand and back to keep the Kryptonian guessing. Kara's defense was assisted in great part by her enhanced perception and superspeed, which allowed her to match Phil's crisp, practiced motions blow-for-blow. That said, Phil was steadily gaining ground, forcing her to the edge of the ring, so Kara held her ground and waited for her sparring partner to lunge. She _always_ lunged if she felt she had the advantage; that much hadn't changed in Kara's absence.

Her belief was vindicated when Philippus pirouetted and slashed at Kara's hip in a horizontal strike. Kara leapt toward her in a corkscrew stabilized with a pinch of flight, getting on her other side and countering with a swipe at Phil's legs. The general coiled up tightly and rolled sideways, rising into a thrust and overhead swipe. Kara jerked her neck away from the stab and wing-blocked the swipe to meld into a horizontal counter aimed at Phil's lower ribs. The Amazon leaned into the strike, bracing her blade with both hands and spinning to plant an elbow in Kara's temple. Grunting, Kara stumbled back a step and shifted her sword to an underhanded grip, focusing on defensive blade-work while her offhand sent periodic jabs at Philippus' head and torso.

Blocking a high backswing, Kara shin-kicked Philippus in her right thigh, sending it slightly off the ground and throwing her off-balance. Pressing her attack, the Kryptonian lunged at Phil's face with a pommel strike, the blow glancing off the crown of her head when she ducked and threw her kicked leg back in a pistol squat. In her low stance, Phil blocked Kara's overhead and shifted her weight to her other leg while shunting her opponent's sword away. That shunt melded into a low swipe at Kara's ankles, countered by a leap and drop-kick at Phil's sternum. A ragged barrel-roll managed to get her out of danger and back on her feet, standing some eight feet away from Kara. The blonde smirked and dropped her stance, digging the tip of her sword into the sand of the ring and dragging it behind her as she ran toward Philippus.

A flick of her wrist sent a thick cloud of sand into Phil's face, obscuring her vision. Kara, of course, could see through it and lunged directly for the other woman's neck with a slice she pulled at the last second, stopping with the edge of her blade just touching her skin. The cloud of sand cleared out to reveal Kara's smirk to her sparring partner, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Guess I win," taunted the Kryptonian.

"Impressive," drawled Philippus with a mildly patronizing tone, "but this is really more of a draw."

Kara blinked in confusion.

"After all," Phil added with a smirk of her own, "the femoral artery bleeds just as fast as the carotid."

At that, Kara glanced down to see Phil's sword pressed against an exposed patch of skin on her left leg, right where the aforementioned blood vessel was. Huffing in frustration, Kara lowered her blade and stepped back, as did Phil.

"Don't look so put out," Philippus said, laughter lacing her tone. "It _was_ an excellent bout for being so out of practice."

Kara crossed her arms, sword tucked under one, and pouted a little. "You know, that sword probably wouldn't even penetrate my skin."

"You willing to bet your life on that if the time comes?"

A hard sigh left her throat as she tossed the weapon back to her teacher. "No."

Philippus returned the blades to their rack. "How long are you here?"

Kara shrugged. "Not sure. Couple days, probably."

She arched an eyebrow. "That's all?"

She threw her hands up. "I do have other responsibilities. Working with Kal, in _and_ out of costume, applying for college, friends…I have a _life_."

"Hm." Phil smiled a little. "Good. A part of me feared you would become a recluse after leaving." She frowned. "Especially given the trauma of _how_ you left."

Kara couldn't suppress a shiver as she hugged herself. "Don't remind me. _Please_ don't remind me."

"Do dreams of it still haunt you?"

She laughed morbidly. "No. I have plenty of _other_ traumatic memories to fill _that_ gap."

Phil looked her over a while with crossed arms. "With luck and the gods' will, Darkseid will never darken your doorstep again."

Kara snorted derisively and crossed her arms. "Pretty sure your 'gods' have very different priorities."

A tense moment passed between them, broken only by the faint whir of a familiar engine in the distance. Kara and Philippus turned toward it, seeing the faint shimmer before it shifted into a large jet slowly lowering itself to park in front of the royal palace.

"Diana's here!" Kara exclaimed excitedly, moving to take off toward the jet.

A faint _whack_ sounded when Phil smacked the blunt end of a spear against Kara's bicep.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" she asked with a malevolent smile. "We've only just begun."

Kara sighed and rolled her eyes, taking the spear as Phil retrieved another for herself. Since having a taste of modern tech, Diana's mother had a direct communication line to her. If Di was there in person, chances were she'd be sticking around for a while. Kara would have plenty of time to catch up with her later. Or so she thought.

…

The vast classical architecture of Themyscira caught Jason off-guard, and the drop of his jaw was enough to make Diana smile. The tension in her body was fairly obvious to him, but he pretended not to notice to give her less to worry about. He sincerely doubted her conversation with Queen Hippolyta had been so simple as to get him an all-access pass to Paradise Island, not after literal millennia of isolation from the male half of the human race. Generally speaking, he'd found Amazonian history fascinating, from what Diana had taught him growing up, but he suspected the history she taught him was significantly different than the history she'd learned as a child.

The Amazons had an understandably skewed perspective of the world, especially given their lack of contact with the outside world and outside media, but without new generations with new curiosity, their paradigm had little chance for change. Unless someone gave them a reason. Two columns of three guards armed to the teeth and arrayed in heavy Amazonian armor flanked the stairs that led to the main gate of the royal palace. They bowed and saluted as Diana strode past in slacks and a loose white blouse, having planned a collaborative meeting with one of Wayne Enterprises' charities later that day.

She smiled and saluted back while Jason tagged along behind her, feeling heat all over that had nothing to do with the tropical sun and everything to do with intent eyes on him from all sides. That heat went nowhere when he stepped through the gateway, actually increasing quite a bit when he caught sight of a half-dozen more royal guards encircling a formidable-looking older woman with golden blonde hair and a small but functional diadem peeking out from her tresses. Her blue eyes, so piercingly similar to Diana's, locked onto Jason within seconds of his entrance. He couldn't suppress the mild unease that gripped him at her appraisal. Her face gave away nothing of her intentions or feelings, at least not until they got closer.

"Mother," Diana said with a warm smile and outstretched arms.

Queen Hippolyta's eyes turned to her daughter's smiling face, an expression she returned along with the embrace—though Jason noted her smile didn't _quite_ reach her eyes. "Diana. Welcome home."

Diana drew back to arm's length. "How are the sisters?"

"Well enough." Her smile turned to a small frown. "Given their last outing, the period of rest has been well-enjoyed."

Diana's face changed subtly, almost painfully neutral. "Yes, well, I think we _all_ needed a break after that. Pity only some of us could afford to take one."

Jason shifted in place awkwardly as tension settled over the room.

Hippolyta's pursed lips relaxed when she turned her attention to the teen. "This is the boy?"

Diana took another second before looking to Jason and smiling as she held him by the shoulder. "This is my _son_ , Jason."

Jason noted the significance of her emphasis on "son."

Hippolyta arched an appraising eyebrow as she looked him over, reaching out to grip him by the chin. "Lean but sturdy, with sharp eyes and a strong chin." She shrugged and nodded to Diana. "An excellent specimen, daughter, and certainly a first for any Amazon."

Diana's lips pursed and arms crossed. "In a number of ways, I'm sure."

Jason cleared his throat and gently shook his face clear of his grandmother's grip, motioning between the women. "Do you two need a moment alone?"

His mother glanced at him, face sagging a bit and sighing. "No. Mother, Jason has proven himself more than capable, but knows he still has a great deal to learn. I know better than anyone how well the Amazons can prepare him for the field, and was hoping you could help."

Hippolyta hummed softly. "Yes, as discussed, I'll do my best." She looked between them. "But you must understand: our sisters have avoided contact with mankind for millennia, with few recent exceptions, the Olympus War most notable."

"And is that _my_ fault?" Jason asked with a slight edge to his voice.

The queen stared at him with narrowed eyes. "No," she admitted. "But regardless of your intentions or temperament, they will not be as open with you at first. If Diana raised you, however, I have little doubt you'll win them over. It will only take time."

Jason nodded slightly, glancing at the nearby guards, whose expressions were unreadable.

Diana turned to him and held him by the arms. "You'll be okay?"

He blinked and faced her with a small smile. "Yeah. If I can deal with _Damian's_ prickliness, I can take a little heat from the other side of the family."

She chuckled and embraced him tightly. "Then good luck, and keep me posted."

"I will," he replied with a kiss on her cheek. "See you, Mom."

Diana gave her mother a parting hug, a little tension still present between them until the moment she left the room. The subtle hiss of jet engines followed a minute later, and then there was silence. Hippolyta broke it first.

"Jason, I'll be honest with you—"

" _Please_ ," he interrupted with a sigh.

Her lips pursed tightly. "This is…extremely irregular and…not a small bit uncomfortable for _everyone_. The last time a man set foot on Themyscira was during the Olympus War—and that is _not_ a pleasant memory."

Jason's arms crossed defensively. "And whose fault is that?" He shrugged. "Again, not mine. Or any other guy I know." He frowned. "I've read your history, I get it, but thousands of years of isolation isn't going to fix _anything_." A sigh and wave toward a nearby exit. "So let's get to it. Tour first?"

Hippolyta smiled at his candor and tipped her head in a small nod. "Tour first."

Jason smiled a little and followed on her heels, noting absently the two guards that trailed behind them.

…

"And you call yourself 'Supergirl'?"

"Go to hell, Artemis," Kara griped at her new sparring partner. "You're lucky I _pull_ my punches."

Artemis grinned and flicked her red hair out of her face, tossing her sword into the air and catching it repeatedly. The taunt pulled a deadpan glare from Kara, who had been beaten handily after an ill-advised gamble against her much more aggressive opponent. Seemed those aggressive tendencies were universal among all the relative newcomers from Bana-Mighdall. Hardly surprising, given why the founders of the Amazons' sister sanctuary separated from Themyscira in the first place. However, it was a source of some worry, given that her super-hearing had picked up a _male_ voice coming from the direction of the palace when she decided to eavesdrop a bit (one of a few reasons Artemis had managed to kick her ass).

His voice sounded familiar, and she'd picked up traces of it moving around the island, steadily growing closer to the training fields where she was. Turning her mind from the newcomer, she laid her weapon back on its rack and leaned back until she fell backward into the sand.

Artemis strode over and toed her lower ribs obnoxiously. "Conked out already?"

Kara frowned up at her, squinting. "Just taking a breather." She wrinkled her nose. "And avoiding your gloating."

The redhead's arms crossed. "I do not _gloat_ , Kara, I simply celebrate every victory."

"And feed off conflict, apparently."

Artemis frowned slightly. "You can't improve a muscle unless it is first broken. Repeatedly and severely, if necessary. Conflict breeds strength. Stagnation breeds weakness."

"I prefer the term 'peace.'"

"Don't we all?" she agreed ruefully. "But conflict will always exist in the world, and only by seeking it out can we grow strong enough to survive it."

"I try to be a little more optimistic, Art."

Artemis arched a red eyebrow as she leaned against a nearby tree, her tone sarcastic. "Which I suppose is why you're here, training with us."

Kara stared back at her for a moment before sighing hard. "Touché."

"…something irks you."

She blinked and shrugged. "Something _always_ irks me. Downside of being a teenager."

"Anything you wish to share?"

Kara frowned up at her. "Not really sure you'd understand."

"And why is that?"

The blonde threw her hands back and used them as a pillow. "Because you haven't been around guys for a couple thousand years." She frowned crookedly. "Except to crack their heads."

Artemis blinked and shrugged. "Fair point." She smirked. "Any heads I need to crack?"

Kara sighed. "Wouldn't be able to if there were. He lives a millennium in the future."

Her eyebrows shot upward. "Interesting fellow. I take it he cut you off?"

"He didn't…cut me off, per se…" she glanced at Artemis' stony features and rolled her eyes, "oh boy, forget I said anything."

Artemis threw her hands up. "What?"

Kara smiled and shook her head, clambering upright and dusting herself off. "Another round. No weapons this time."

She snorted and smirked. "I think you're putting yourself at a disadvantage, but if you insist."

Kara grinned and readied herself as they faced off on either side of the ring. A cry of aggressive elation sounded from both ends as they lunged at each other full-speed.

…

"This is the armory, where our greatest, most dangerous relics are kept under lock and key."

Honestly, Jason couldn't care less about what was inside. The _outside_ was what held his attention, and he was vocal about it. "The only ruins of this architecture I've ever seen were…well, _ruins_. I've never seen Classical structures so well-maintained."

Hippolyta smiled a little. "These days, Themyscira may well be the only place in the world where you can."

Jason nodded slowly. "Makes me wonder how much archeologists and historians could learn from you guys."

"Perhaps," she replied hesitantly.

He fell silent as they strode through the streets of the tiered city crafted into the island's mountainous topography. Jason felt eyes on him from all angles, something he was used to from growing up as a celebrity. These eyes, however, were…suspicious, mistrustful, and it irked him. His mild irritation prompted a question that had been nagging at him since morning.

"What happened between you and Mom?"

Hippolyta blinked and glanced his way. "What makes you ask?"

Jason arched a black eyebrow. "I'm not an idiot, and when she dropped me off, you could cut the tension with a knife."

The ageless woman sighed in a way that showed every century. "Diana…came to me during the Olympus War, asking for my help after she lost her powers."

"You mean after they were _stolen_."

Her lips pursed tightly. "Yes. I did not yet know the full context of Zeus' actions and assumed he and the others had good reason for their assault on mankind." Her jaw tightened. "So I said no, and begged her to stay here until it was over."

Jason blinked, his expression completely blank. "Because better to damn all of humanity to fire and death than lose your own daughter."

Hippolyta released a self-deprecating laugh. "Selfish, I know."

He nodded slowly. "But understandable."

She threw him a curious look.

Jason frowned a bit. "Did my mother tell you why I'm here? _How_ I'm here?"

Hippolyta nodded. "We spoke of this over teleconference yesterday."

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "The dangers of time travel are something I've been warned about repeatedly since I made my intentions known, in this time and my own. Yet for all that, I've never once made it a secret that I have no intention of failing my mission…no matter the casualties or cost." He waved at the various Amazons bustling about one task or another. "Family _defines_ us, whether it's family we're born to or family we choose. Without that…" his expression darkened knowingly, "there's no telling what we become."

The queen blinked a few times before nodding slowly as they strode along, her face shifting with a flicker of newfound respect in her eyes. "Shall we take to the training fields?"

He blinked rapidly and looked up at her, a grin splitting his previously morose features. "Thought you'd never ask."

…

The moment she picked up his approaching voice, Kara knew there was going to be trouble. The royal guards escorting Queen Hippolyta were visible first, then the queen herself and the raven-haired guest she was conversing with in animated tones. Kara couldn't help staring as he observed his environment, wide-eyed and brimming with excitement that left him practically vibrating. She vainly restrained a small chuckle, getting Artemis' attention and drawing it to where Kara's eyes lingered.

"You know him?"

Kara turned to the rambunctious redhead. "Yeah, we've met once before, at Diana's wedding." She eyed Jason again. "He looks…different, more relaxed."

"Hm."

Kara threw her a suspicious look. "What's 'hm,' hmm?"

"Just anticipating the incoming storm of _skatá_."

She frowned. "What do you—"

An animated voice from the newcomers' direction caught Kara's attention, the source all too identifiable and worrisome.

"Who is this and why is he here?"

Jason's jovial mood vanished with Philippus' biting tone.

Hippolyta's lips pursed. "Jason Wayne, son of Diana; he is our guest for the next few days, and will be training among us."

Jason smiled and stuck out his hand to her. "A pleasure; I've heard so much—"

"By what right does he presume to train here?" Philippus crossed her arms, ignoring his hand.

Jason blinked, his face carefully neutral as he lowered his hand. "I thought the Amazons took care of their own."

Philippus' tone thinned. "They do, yet you are not Amazon."

Hippolyta sent her general a warning glare. "He is my grandson, Philippus."

"Blood or no, he was not blessed by the gods. Therefore, he is not Amazon, nor could any male ever be."

Jason smirked. "Technically, I'm only half-Amazon, so your record remains untarnished."

Philippus snarled. "You mock me?"

He blinked. "I was just quoting Star Trek, but—"

"Your arrogance insults the ground upon which you tread."

"Philippus, enough!" Hippolyta bit out.

Jason's temper flared anyway. "I'm sorry, did _I_ spit in your coffee? Or whatever the hell it is you drink here?" He turned to his grandmother. "I came to this island to _learn_ , not be insulted by nature of _existing_ , so if it's better I leave—"

"Nonsense," Hippolyta interrupted sternly with a glance at her general. "You are our guest, and welcome to our hospitality."

"Hospitality, certainly," Philippus cut in. "But our technique of defense is another matter. Only Amazons may learn these arts, and _you_ are not one of us."

Hippolyta had reached her wit's end. "General, as your queen—"

Jason held up a hand to stop her. "Does it scare you _that much_? Do I?"

Philippus got up in his face. "I fear nothing, much less an upstart, half-breed _pup_."

The queen's hands clenched into fists. "Hold your to—"

Jason grinned malevolently. "Care to back that up?"

Philippus bared teeth. "Then I challenge you to a blood duel, Jason Wayne."

"No!" Hippolyta roared, splitting the air. "I will not allow this!" She scowled at the darker woman. "You have spoken well out of turn, general, in clear disrespect of your duty and my wishes. We will speak of this later, but for now you are _dismissed_."

Kara sighed hard, shaking her head as she caught Artemis smirking mid-sharpening of her sword. And then something reached her ears that snapped her attention right back.

"I accept."

Hippolyta and Philippus both whirled toward Jason in shock.

"You…accept?" the latter asked, disoriented.

"Nonsense," Hippolyta tried to interrupt, "that challenge was issued in error."

"Sounded pretty serious to me," Jason replied, staring at his challenger dead-on, "if she would lump me in with _traitors_."

Philippus blinked and eyed him curiously.

His jaw clenched. "I grew up with your greatest warrior; I'm familiar with Amazon law—including the parameters of a blood duel."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then you know this fight only ends upon yield or death?"

Kara's eyes widened in horror, finally realizing the full extent of Hippolyta's dilemma.

"Naturally," Jason said. "Equipment?"

"Whatever you choose," she replied. "I want your best when I _humble_ you."

Hippolyta attempted once more to intervene. "General—"

"He accepted the challenge," Philippus interrupted with a smirk. Her eyes turned to the queen. "No turning back now…or would you ask us both to forsake our honor?"

Hippolyta glanced between them in alarm, lips pursed tightly. Kara couldn't tell what was happening exactly, but it was clear the queen had been backed into a corner with no good options.

Her jaw clenched at last, and she turned to Philippus. "This will not end well."

"Depends on your point of view," the warrior shot back as she and Jason strode toward a fighting ring, their eyes never leaving each other.

"So, what's the wager?" Jason asked. "I assume you'll want me to leave if I lose."

"To leave the training fields, yes." She glanced at Hippolyta. "I suppose if my _queen_ decides you are worth keeping around, you may remain as a guest in her house, but Themyscira will never be open to you."

"And if I win, there will be no more question of who or what I am. You'll treat me as an equal in person, and a student in status." Jason stuck out his hand again. "Agreed?"

Philippus eyed the appendage for a moment before squeezing it. "Agreed." She nodded at the various racks scattered about. "Choose whatever you need. I'll wait."

Jason strode over to one of them and glided his hands over several swords. He selected one that approximated the dimensions of a spatha, about 40 inches in length, with a blade 32 inches long and a crossguard similar to his own sword. He turned back toward his opponent and stood at the opposite edge of the dueling ring, weapon held loosely in hand.

Philippus eyed him warily. "Where is your armor?"

He shrugged and hefted the sword in a defensive posture. "Don't need it."

She huffed and shook her head slowly, retrieving a spear and shield in addition to the sword at her hip. "Brave but foolish."

They began pacing around each other, their eyes locked as Queen Hippolyta overlooked the match. Neither of them made a move on the other, waiting for something that came moments later with the sovereign's hesitant tone.

"Begin."

…

Philippus' opening barrage of attacks set the tone for the deathmatch. A blood duel on his first day…this didn't bode well for giving the Amazons a new paradigm. Typically reserved for traitorous Amazons, a blood duel was a sacred matter of augury on Themyscira, considered a direct manifestation of the gods' will. The victor was supposedly in the right, or at the very least to be given a second chance. Jason mentally griped that he'd never gotten a _first_.

His complaints were put on the backburner when that accursed spear came in for its tenth stab. Parrying the bronze head away with as little effort as possible, Jason maintained a relatively safe distance as the general continued to test his defenses. Sensing an opening when she retracted the weapon post-lunge, Jason dashed toward her and drove the pommel of his sword into her shield when she brought it up to protect her face. That blinded her for about a split-second, leaving her exposed to a trip-kick on her left side. She'd anticipated the move, however, because he was staggering back a second later after she bashed the edge of her shield into his incoming shin.

If his bones weren't so hardy, he had no doubt he'd have broken his leg then and there. She immediately pressed the attack with a hard whack to the head with the blunt end, followed quickly by a couched stab to the chest. He pivoted his body just enough for the spear to skate past, though the edge of its head still sliced through the right sleeve of his tee, just avoiding breaking the skin. His left hand snapped up to wrap around the shaft, sending it into a crescent motion that threw her right arm away from her torso and left her open to a counter-stab. Philippus' shield shunted the blade upward, another shield bash hitting him dead center and sending him back a few feet.

Slashing strikes with the spearhead came at him with precision gained from centuries of experience, deflected with his sword with relative ease. He knew she was toying with him. Deflecting a stab following up a slashfest, Jason wing-blocked the attack and spun counterclockwise, planting an elbow in the center of her shield and returning a bit of force in kind. Her boots slid through the sand of the ring as he pushed her back, using his sword as a barrier between him and the spear to set up his follow-up: a backwards drop-kick that slammed her shield and sent her rolling back through the ring.

He shifted his sword to his left hand mid-charge, using it to parry a rising slash from Philippus and set her up for a top-down kick that slammed her helmet hard enough to dent it. He followed his spinning motion with a leaping kick to the shield that laid her out on her back. A chorus of surprised gasps came from the growing audience as he advanced on her prone form. Snarling, Philippus reached into the sand and retrieved her fallen spear, using it as a pole to sweep his legs out. He recovered with a backward roll, giving her time to get upright and charge him right back.

Three incoming strikes were deflected, one a little too far from his center, leaving him open to being disarmed with a shield strike to his wrist. He hissed and withdrew from her vicious follow-up, clutching his injured wrist. He rolled away from a stab, but the move was a feint that set him up for a sweeping slash that left a deep cut across his chest. Philippus withdrew a step, shaking the blood off her spear while pacing around him with a taunting smirk. Jaw clenching, Jason took a deep breath to steady himself and curse the lecture he'd get from Diana when he got home with a couple new scars.

A glint of sunlight in the edge of his vision briefly drew his gaze to the fallen sword in the sand. He lunged for it, handspringing over the preemptive stab that came his way and feeling his fingers wrap around its leather-bound hilt. On the way up, he swung it behind him instinctively, feeling it connect with the incoming spearhead. The brief reprieve left the spear within reach, so he spun toward Philippus, grabbed the shaft with his offhand, and brought his sword down with a cry, shearing it in half—with the metal tip in his grasp. Continuing his spin, he hurled the half-spear at her headfirst, the bronze head burying itself in her shield.

Her sword left its sheath in the time it took for him to close the distance, a cascade of strikes coming from him and finding no purchase except the shield between them. Mid-strike, Philippus sent a low stab under her shield, the tip just nicking his abdomen when he snapped his hips away. She followed up with a shield bash that slammed him right in the face and knocked his brain about, forcing him on the defensive. Her body spun in a whirlwind, using the edge of the shield as a weapon every bit as much as the sword in her other hand. Recognizing the tactic as a means of wearing him down, Jason dashed back and coiled up, waiting for her to close the distance before twist-flipping over her mid-stab and slashing at her back on the way down.

She flipped her shield to cover her back, blocking his strike, and spun with a rising slash aimed at his neck. He bent over backwards, practically folding himself in half as he felt the wind skate off the edge of her blade. A snap-kick to his right instep sent him reeling, and another shield-edge strike to the face split his right eyebrow and sent black spots through his vision. She followed up with a reverse shield bash to the torso, and something in his chest gave out as all breath left his lungs and his feet left the ground. Jason slid through the sand on his back, coughing hard in an attempt to recover.

Philippus didn't let him.

One overhead strike after the next rained down on him, forcing him to keep one arm occupied with defense while his other tried to keep him balanced. He lashed out at her legs with a kick, but found his shin slammed with the edge of her shield once again. Her swordplay was clever, to be sure, but that shield was the real problem. So instead of targeting her physiological weak points, he lashed out directly at her shield. A ground-kick to the shield stopped her advance briefly enough for him to roll back and get his feet under him in a crouch. Jason lunged forward with a growl, his sword swinging at her shield repeatedly with his advance.

She countered with a few quick strikes, but he parried them with little effort and immediately resumed his assault, wearing down her shield arm little by little and carving deep scores into the metal disc's surface. A battle cry shot from his throat as he capped off his barrage with a lunge with his full weight behind it. The moment he heard metal shearing, Jason knew he'd made a mistake. Amidst the battle haze and adrenaline, he'd managed to find the weakest point on the shield and plunged his sword halfway through. By the hiss and growl from the other side, he'd cut Philippus, but when he tried to pull back, the sword didn't come with him.

Eyes widening, Jason snapped his head away from a sword-stroke that would've cleaved his head off, noting that she dropped her shield to the sand in favor of extra speed. Philippus practically chased him across the ring, the boy just barely dodging her strikes until she followed one with a snap-kick to the gut that doubled him over in pain. His attempt to avoid her next stroke failed when a slim cut sprouted along his left leg, then another on his right arm, and another that turned the gash on his chest into a crooked X. A thrust-kick to the chest sent blood spewing from the cuts on his torso and him flying back into the sand.

Gasps of pain and lost breath came from his throat in panicked breaths as he crawled backward toward the edge of the ring. Philippus stalked toward him, her furious countenance just visible in the Y-visor of her helmet, as were the white knuckles around the hilt of her sword. She had just enough time to draw back her blade for a killing stroke before an ear-splitting command stopped her in her tracks.

"Enough!"

Philippus blinked and stared at Jason for a moment before her eyes drifted up to Hippolyta. "The contest must have its end."

The golden-haired woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This was a fool's contest to begin with, Philippus, and I as much a fool to let it happen. This is over." She frowned sadly, glancing at Jason. "Withdraw with your victory."

The general huffed and cast Jason's prone form a disdainful glare before turning around and walking off.

"I never yielded."

She stopped at his ragged voice, turning her head to look over her shoulder.

Jason's teeth gritted as he painfully rose to a crouch. "And I'm not dead _yet_."

Philippus glared at him for another half-second before whirling around, ignoring Hippolyta's furious orders as the queen leapt to her feet. No one would be fast enough to make it, not even the Kryptonian sprinting at them full speed.

The bronze blade fell in a cleaving cut that would shear through his jugular.

Their shocked audience gasped as one.

And Philippus' sword stopped halfway through its arc, drawing blood…but not nearly as much as she'd intended. Specifically, because instead of perforating a major blood vessel, the blade was clutched in Jason's fingers, hovering a foot away from his neck. Philippus' eyes reached their widest a split-second before his fist caved in her helmet, then her lower breastplate, then her helmet again, crumpling the metal like cheap cardboard. A side thrust kick sent her flying to the opposite end of the dueling ring, struggling to get her ruined helmet off. That struggle left Jason more than enough time to reach her fallen shield and pry his sword from it with his foot braced against the shield.

She got it off just in time to see him _fly_ straight for her.

Philippus' preemptive strike went under his body when his flight pattern sent him over her in a graceful arc that mimicked his earlier twist-flip's angle of attack. Her block carved a notch into both their swords, and his midair kick nailed her in the jaw, snapping her head to the side. When his feet touched the ground, their eyes met once more, and for the first time throughout the match, the Amazon general froze. A roar of pure fury split the air as he charged, every strike bearing his full strength and weight, every move designed to inflict maximum damage. She tried to counterattack numerous times, but between her rapidly dwindling stamina and the sheer speed of his strikes, there was no opening to be had.

Jason didn't let up for a second, filling the air with an endless cascade of metallic clangs and the vocalization of his fury. A three-hit combo struck at her shoulders and hip, followed swiftly by a weight-driven overhead. Philippus swung upward to catch his blade, but it caught a notch in the sword as well, the sheer force of the impact shearing the metal in half and leaving Jason with only half a sword. Her brief elation at her luck ended when he dropped the broken blade and caught it underhandedly, immediately stabbing it down into her right thigh.

She screamed as she was driven to one knee, swinging at him wildly and hitting only empty air when he snapped his head away. A final lunge of desperation halted before it could pick up speed, the end of her blade once again caught in the bloody fingers of his left hand. Philippus looked up to meet Jason's blazing blue eyes, feeling her own widen in unbidden, uncharacteristic terror. Terror that was only magnified when he drove his right fist into the shaft of the blade and broke it in half with one blow. His hand was around her throat a moment later as he flew across the ring, dragging her to a stop through the sand. Jason flipped the broken tip of her blade into an underhanded grip, bringing it back for a knife-like shank of her carotid artery.

Several screaming voices assaulted him from all sides as he brought the broken weapon down like a stake.

One reached him.

It wasn't the panicked shrieks of the numerous women who had known and fought beside their general for centuries, nor was it the imperious command of the queen who had failed to protect them both. No, the voice that reached him was a shrill, piercing cry for mercy in an all-too-familiar tone.

It stopped him in his tracks.

Slowly, deliberately, his eyes dragged themselves to his right, tracking through the blurred-together faces of the Amazons crowded around their match, through the black spots and red haze clouding his vision…to the short blonde with messy hair and compassionate blue eyes.

And like that, the fight and rage left him.

Jason blinked once, twice, meeting Kara's eyes one last time before turning back to Philippus' wide-eyed stare. "Yield, general."

Her fear turned to fury as she spat, "No."

He pressed the tip of the broken blade against the skin of her neck just enough for her to feel it. "We both know this is over."

"Not until you _finish_ it," she growled.

Jason's eyes blazed with determined fire, his tone hard as iron. "There's only one person in this time I have _any_ intention of killing…" his eyes softened as he let out a long breath, "and it isn't you." He lifted the blade from her neck and tossed it into the sand.

Philippus' eyes widened, her jaw tight. "You would deprive me of honor?"

He blinked and stared her down. "To save your life? Hell yes. Especially if you're willing to lose it over something as petty as pride."

Their gazes remained locked for a long moment before Philippus looked down in defeat and uttered words she had never spoken to any man. "I…yield."

The shocked silence that had settled over the crowd continued well after Jason gently hoisted Philippus upright and braced her injured side with his body. The queen was the first to break it.

"Sisters, take her to the healing pools." Hippolyta's gaze remained on Jason even after the guards obeyed. "And him as well."

Jason snorted with a hint of a sardonic smile and a dismissive wave. "Don't bother." He turned away and heard her voice at his back.

"Jason—"

"I can always go there later if I need to…" he glared over his shoulder, "right?" That sardonic smirk showed in full. "After all…I won, didn't I?"

Hippolyta met his eyes unwaveringly, lips pursed. "So you did."

"Then I'll see you at dinner," Jason said dismissively, taking a couple of steps past the stunned crowd before launching himself into the air.

…

Nearly every woman on the training fields stood stock-still in the wake of Jason's exit, Kara included.

"I'll admit…"

Kara turned to the speaker, a visibly unnerved Artemis.

"…I didn't anticipate _that_."

She turned to the faint dust trail left in Jason's wake and glanced back toward the dueling ring, filled with strokes of dried blood and scraps of wood and metal that used to be weapons. Frowning, she stretched her senses while the Amazons began literally picking up the pieces and Hippolyta vanished in the direction of the royal palace. Faint scuffing of foliage against a moving body was heard in the distance, then leather on rock, and finally leather on loam as he stopped moving. Frowning, Kara cast a final glance at her disoriented sparring partner before taking to the skies herself.

When she found him, he was sitting on a rock and staring blankly into the distance, a position that overlooked the coast and gave him a perfect view of Themyscira's west-side vista. On the outside, he seemed the perfect picture of serene calm, despite the numerous scabbing cuts across his body, but she could hear his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. The sweat and pheromones radiating off him, not to mention the creaks of tension in his bones and muscles, practically _screamed_ that he was upset. And if he was really trained by the Batman, he _must've_ been distracted to not have noticed her until she was right on top of him.

Jason blinked rapidly, eyes widening when he caught sight of her floating, frowning form. "Oh," he said simply, blushing.

Kara smiled a little and touched down a small distance off to put him at ease. "Expecting someone else?"

He blinked again and shrugged. "Not really." He turned back to the view in front of him with a thousand-yard stare. Jason took a few breaths before seeming to notice she wasn't moving and clearing his throat. "Would—would you like to sit?" he asked hesitantly, patting the empty space next to him.

Kara smiled and nodded, silently taking the offered seat and joining him in staring out at the empty sea. The sun was just starting to set, leaving a boiling trail of red and orange down to where it began to approach the water on the horizon. The sight and power flowing into her from the fading light kept her attention for a while as they sat there in silence.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Jason didn't look away from the horizon, blinking every so often in the silence that followed her question. "I don't know." He looked down at his hands, fingers absently toying with each other. "I came here to…" a sigh, "I don't know what I was expecting."

Kara arched a sympathetic eyebrow and smiled. "I'm guessing a duel to the death wasn't it."

Jason huffed and managed a tiny, rueful smile. "Not so much, no." He glanced her way, nodding to her. "What'd you come here for?"

She shrugged and sighed. "I trained here when I first came to Earth." A nostalgic smile quirked her lips. "Diana's way of placating both Kal and Batman's…opposing viewpoints on my arrival."

He blinked, staring at her with a blank expression that gave nothing away. "Returned for a little brush-up, then?"

Kara nodded. "Guess I still have a lot to learn if you beat my old instructor," she said with a smirk and nudge of his arm.

His face darkened as he looked back to the horizon.

She sensed she'd touched a nerve. "It wasn't your fault. They backed you into a corner. You did what you had to." Kara frowned. "If they pushed me that way, I would've done the same."

"No you wouldn't." He said it with such certainty, it was almost disdainful.

Her arms crossed. "And how would you know?"

Jason met her eyes with a pair of dark blues that were somehow intense and fragile at the same time. "Because you would never have tried to kill her."

Kara held his gaze for a long moment, feeling a chill creep up her spine at his words and—more importantly—how much she believed him. In contrast to his earlier staring contest with Philippus, he was the first to look away.

When she spoke again, it was with a firm yet gentle voice. " _They_ set the rules, Jason."

"Yet I chose not to ignore them."

"Phil's not dead, is she?"

"…no."

"Then you have nothing to be sorry for."

He looked at the ground, jaw working visibly. "She owes you her life, you know." When she didn't reply, he kept talking. "If it wasn't for you…"

Kara blinked slowly, mind drifting back to the night of the wedding. "We knew each other…in your time."

Jason stiffened for a moment before sighing hard and nodding, still unable to meet her eyes. "I always lo…looked up to you."

She smiled teasingly. "Because of the whole 'Supergirl' thing?"

"No." Finally, he looked her way, offering her another look into his paradoxical eyes. "You're just easy to look up to."

There was something hesitant in his tone, but she knew he wouldn't say anything more on it when he looked away. Probably for the best—future knowledge, and all that.

Kara bit her lower lip. "Then…why did you avoid me like the plague at the wedding?"

Jason sighed hard. "Ugh, okay, admittedly not my finest moment."

She laughed. "No kidding. Did I come on too strong or something?"

"No," he chuckled, "I'm just used to you being…" a shrug, "older. A little less…" he visibly measured a few words in his head, "bubbly."

Kara crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. "So in the future, I'm some moody grump?"

Jason released another laugh (which Kara mentally congratulated herself for). "No, no, not at all. Just a little more seasoned and…" his smile thinned just a pinch, "reserved."

"But…we were still friends, right?"

His smile took on a strange quality, like his mind was a million miles—or sixteen years—away. "Yeah."

"Then I don't see any reason for that to change." Kara stuck out her hand and smiled warmly. "Kara Zor-El…or Clara Kent, whatever you prefer."

Jason chuckled and shook her hand with a little more genuine gusto than he'd shown all day. "Jason Wayne, pleasure to meet you."

…

It was with much mental debate and trepidation that Hippolyta entered a special chamber in the royal palace, reserved for the queen and used only at her discretion. Her hands clasped and head bowed in a gesture of supplication as her eyes closed for a moment before feeling a familiar lightness steal over her. When they opened, she was greeted by an equally familiar sight, and numerous titanic figures that loomed over her in thrones of various material and quality. The figure in the very center glared at her with electric blue eyes, hands tightened into fists around the armrests of his throne. It was a good ten seconds before he spoke with a voice like thunder.

"Queen Hippolyta…it has been some time." He puffed out his chest haughtily. "And here I thought you and your Amazons were finished with us."

Swallowing a biting retort (and no small amount of pride), Hippolyta bowed her head even lower, averting her eyes. "Lord Zeus, I come before you not for myself or my sisters…but for guidance in aiding another."

A long silence passed before he replied. "Speak."

Licking her lips, she continued. "Today, I witnessed something troubling in a match against my general. Her opponent, a boy of mere fifteen years, bested her in a brutal manner uncharacteristic of his temperament."

Zeus' disdain and arrogance were made evident by his snort. "An aging wench beaten by a pup, not sure where the surprise is _there_."

Her jaw clenched with self-restraint. "The _what_ is not so troubling as the _how_. The rage inside him, the brutality…it was not right, or even _human_."

"Your point?"

She frowned. "Milord…I fear the god of war may not be as dead as we thought."

A faint murmur was heard from the pantheon arrayed before her.

Zeus leaned forward in his seat, idly scratching his platinum beard. "Who is this boy, that he would so easily defeat one of your best?"

Hippolyta hesitated a moment before answering. "Jason Wayne, son of Diana and Bruce Wayne."

She couldn't have missed the deafening silence that overtook the gods, or the way Zeus' eyes lit up.

Zeus himself slowly leaned back in his seat, his white-clad form exuding an unsettling calm. "Is that so?"

"Yes, milord," she replied hesitantly.

He was silent a while, and briefly exchanged looks with several of the other gods present. Suddenly, his gaze snapped back to the Amazon queen and voice boomed with decisiveness. "Very well. We will look into this matter for you."

Hippolyta bowed once more. "Thank you, milord."

As she straightened and the astral projection faded, she couldn't shake the unease that permeated her very bones.

…

Kara had lost track of how long they'd been talking, only noticing how far the sun had sunk when she laughed and looked out at the horizon. They sat in companionable silence for a minute before she smirked deviously.

"Say," Kara drawled, "how strong _are_ you?"

Jason blinked. "Hm?"

"You busted up Phil's helmet and broke her sword like a twig, and you're only _half_ Amazon."

Jason frowned crookedly in thought. "Well…I'm not really sure. Haven't had much occasion to test it."

Her devious smirk returned in full when she pushed herself off the rock and stood facing him. "Then why don't we find out?"

He arched an eyebrow. "How do you suppose we do that?"

She waved her arms out to the side. "Hit me."

Jason blinked, eyes wide. " _What_?"

Kara chuckled at the scandalized look on his face. "My hands, I mean, not the face." She grinned toothily. "Gotta have something pretty for the cameras."

He coughed hard and shrugged, still blushing as he pushed himself upright. "If you insist."

Kara kept grinning and held her hands out like a punching mitt. "Show me what you got." She cleared her throat as he squared up. "Fair warning, might not want to go full-force."

He huffed. "Of course. I don't want to hurt your hands either."

She smirked. "Please, I'd be more worried about your _fist_."

Jason gave her a deadpan look. "So that's how it is?"

Her only response was a teasing smile.

So he answered with a punch…that she barely felt…and he followed by shaking the hand that threw it, face screwed up in pain.

Kara chuckled. "Told you not to go full force."

He threw her a glare. "I _didn't_. I didn't even go _half_ force." Jason shook his hand off for another second or two before tensing up. "I've never thrown a punch that was painful."

She put her hands on her hips. "Probably never hit a Kryptonian before either."

Jason's tension didn't vanish. "No…that's not it."

He turned toward the rock they'd just been sitting on and placed his foot on it, visibly pushing on it as his face turned red with exertion. Kara watched in a mix of fascination and rising horror as his expression steadily turned from confusion to sheer panic. She was startled when he started to run, then leapt two feet into the air to nearly land face-first in a pile of leaves and twigs. Kara approached him cautiously as he rose to his knees and stared at his hands with wide blue eyes.

"No," she could hear him whisper, "no, she couldn't have been that _stupid_." Suddenly, he sprung to his feet and faced her. "Kara, I need you to fly me to the royal palace."

She blinked in confusion. "Wha—I don't understa—"

" _Now_ ," he ordered, fear and fury equally lacing his tone.

Frowning at his short manner, she grabbed him by the hips and told him to brace himself before taking to the skies and flying toward the gates of the royal palace, on the side where Diana's invisible jet had landed earlier that afternoon. The moment his feet touched the ground, he broke out into a sprint toward the palace and kicked in the door. Kara trailed behind him, confusion slowly giving way to realization as he stormed toward Hippolyta and her guards with his hands fisting at his sides.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he snarled.

Hippolyta turned to him with a frown.

Jason's voice rose in intensity by the word, to an outright scream. "Tell me you weren't that _stupid_!"

The guards surrounding the queen immediately reached for their weapons at his aggressive tone, but she held them back with a gesture.

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly.

Jason stared at her for a second with wide, wild eyes. "What am I talking about?" He whirled toward a nearby vase and smashed it with his right fist, slowly bringing his hand up to show numerous cuts in his knuckles that had nothing to do with his earlier fight. " _This_ is what I'm talking about." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What did you do?"

Hippolyta faced him down, her form tense and heart racing much like Jason's had been when Kara found him in the forest. "Something happened during your duel with Philippus, and I needed a second opinion."

The brimming fury on his face didn't fade a bit. "From whom?"

Her tension increased threefold, lips pursed tightly before she answered. "The highest authority on the matter I wished to verify, the gods themselves."

Kara's jaw dropped in disbelief, subconsciously anticipating the explosion from Jason. She wasn't disappointed.

Jason's voice started out quiet, barely above a whisper. "Are you…absolutely…" his volume hiked up dramatically, almost instantly reaching a furious yell, " _out of your mind_?! Olympus assaults Earth, nearly takes out the whole population—including your own _daughter_ —and you thought it was a good idea to tell them about me?!" He laughed mirthlessly, slowly shaking his head. "You raised my mother, so I know for a _fact_ that you're not that stupid. What was it you were after? A little payback for Philippus?"

Hippolyta's jaw tightened. "You were out of control during the duel."

Jason huffed and began to pace.

"Your rage was not your own."

He whirled on her, roaring, "How the hell would _you_ know?! And if I was really so out of control, why did I _stop_?!" His volume didn't dwindle a bit, arms gesticulating wildly. "You sit here in this 'paradise,' locking yourself away from the evils of this world and claim to have a higher, enlightened form of understanding, when the truth is, you don't know _shit_! You're all so afraid of the past, yet you continue to _live_ in it, wallowing in your own pain and bitterness until it defines _everything you do_!" His teeth bared. "And how you see everyone but yourselves."

Hippolyta strode toward him with narrowed eyes, voice hard. "If the anger and _brutality_ you showed in the arena were truly of your own making, then perhaps Philippus was right to deny you entry, child. Perhaps you are simply not ready to embrace what we have to teach."

He screamed his reply in her face. "Or maybe this 'child' is just sick and tired of always having to _prove himself_!" His fury slowly melted into tears as his breathing went from heavy to ragged. "I—I wanted to learn from you," he said shakily, "to get to know you, my _family_. I'd always wondered why you were never around growing up." His head shook slowly as he backed up a step toward the exit. "Now I know." He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "I don't know what I thought I needed from the Amazons…" he met her eyes with his reddened ones, "but I didn't need this." His gaze and tone hardened just a bit. "And I don't need you." He cast a baleful look over everyone in the room except Kara. " _Any_ of you."

Kara distantly heard Hippolyta utter his name softly as he whirled toward the door and strode out unheedingly. She could only throw the queen a long, mistrustful look before following him out. Kara had quite a bit of her own inner turmoil over what had just been revealed: Hippolyta had spilled the beans to Zeus and company about Jason's existence and they, in an attempt to take petty vengeance on Diana for her interference in the Olympus War, had nixed his powers. Supergirl had been there during the war, seen the carnage left in the wake of their attacks, even suffered her share of injuries opposing them. That a woman as wise as Hippolyta had seen fit to trust them with _anything_ after what they pulled…it shook her faith in the Amazons as a whole—and most _certainly_ cut her "refresher" visit short.

So she couldn't even _imagine_ what Jason was feeling.

He was on the phone when she approached, with Diana if he had to guess.

"I'm done here," he said icily. "No, would…Mom, would you _please_ just come pick me up?" He sighed. "Yeah, see you soon."

Kara didn't bother listening to the other end through the earpiece. She could already imagine the confusion and worry in Diana's voice. The negative emotions rolling off Jason as he sat on a low stone wall and slumped over dwarfed anything she'd sensed in the forest. So she did the only thing she could think of.

"Would you like some company while you wait?"

Jason's tear-streaked face turned to her with a surprised look in his eyes. He didn't speak, only pursed his lips and gulped before nodding slightly. Kara didn't talk either, both during the wait itself and when Diana arrived in her jet and looked between them in worry and confusion. They didn't speak when Jason strode up the ramp of the aircraft, or when he glanced back at her. She heard nothing but the rustle of wind and muted sounds of the jet's stealth turbines until a faint whisper reached her impossibly sensitive ears.

" _Thank you."_

Any inclination she had to smile at his words was immediately quashed by his broken tone. Kara cast a final glance at the palace, catching a glimpse of Hippolyta, slumped over, head in hands, before leaving behind her Amazon garb and taking off in full Kryptonian regalia.

…

When the image on the screen resolved into something recognizable, Hippolyta knew this was going to go wrong fast. The teleconference system Diana had installed in her throne room kept them connected, but it also showed every line and crease of disapproval and _anger_ in her daughter's features.

"Diana—"

She shut her down immediately. "I just finished listening to Jason's account of the day." Her arms crossed defensively. "Couldn't make out everything between the tears and mild hysteria, but I think I understand enough." Diana's deep blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "How _dare_ you?"

Hippolyta set her jaw. "Diana, you need to listen. Something was off with Jason's emotions. I know he believes his anger was natural, but I have _seen_ that fury before. We _both_ have."

Diana nodded slowly. "So you see a cry for help in a _blood duel_ you should _never_ have allowed…and assume outside manipulation?" She smiled sardonically. "I suppose you were spoiled with a daughter who was all too eager to please, free of aggression and emotional baggage…"

"Diana…"

"…but it is _clear_ to me that you know _nothing_ about children! It took my rebellion, my _insistence_ on helping humanity and seeing the _worst_ they had to offer for me to realize just how _wrong_ you were. And even now, a century later, you've still learned _nothing_."

"On the contrary," Hippolyta argued, "I _knew_ I could be wrong about him. I knew I needed a second pair of eyes—"

"So you went to _Zeus_?!" she screamed. "The arrogant, genocidal _bastard_ who nearly destroyed my friends, my family, my _world_?!" Her teeth bared as she pointed an accusing finger at her mother. "In this time or any other, Jason is _my_ son, _my_ responsibility, _not_ theirs!"

Hippolyta's voice rose in frustration. "If I had brought this to you, would you have even listened?"

" _Yes_!" Diana roared. "Because unlike _you_ , I am not impermeable to _reason_!"

Silence overtook the line for a good minute as they both tried to calm themselves.

Hippolyta was the first to speak, regret lacing her tone. "Diana…I can contact Olympus, convince them to return what they took."

Her daughter threw her a look that was nothing short of incredulous.

"Please…let me try to make this right."

Diana's upper lip twitched as she glared with fury that could only be mustered by a mother. "I think you've done quite enough," she seethed. "Over the years, I've come to you for help numerous times, but perhaps the fact that it nearly _always_ went sideways was _my_ fault for expecting too much of you."

Hippolyta's eyes widened. "Diana, please."

Diana's biting reply came down like a hammer. "Rest assured, I will not be making that mistake again." Her features shook with conflicting emotions as she palmed a remote. "Goodbye, mother."

The link turned to black an instant later.

…

The atmosphere in the study was as tense as Diana when she strode in to find Alfred wrapping Jason's wounds in antiseptic-soaked gauze and Bruce and Damian sitting around him. Their youngest looked up at her entrance with an unreadable expression, his features painfully neutral. Diana couldn't even muster the words to speak to him, and it must've shown on her face because Jason smiled compassionately.

"Hey, this isn't on you."

By Bruce's glance, she knew he felt the same way.

Diana couldn't agree with them. "I know what she's like. I should've known better."

Jason's head shook slowly. "Both of us wanted this, wanted…trust she wasn't ready to give." He frowned. "Trust _they_ might never be able to give."

"You won their stupid contest and they _still_ turned on you," Damian grouched from the couch, arms crossed as he laid sideways. He snorted. "And the Amazons claim to have honor."

"Contacting Olympus was an idiotic move," Jason admitted, "but she couldn't have known what they'd do."

"It doesn't matter," Bruce said without room for debate. "Specifics or not, she _knew_ nothing good would come of revealing your existence to them. Whether it was deliberate, she gave them exactly the opportunity they needed to get back at us and that's unforgivable."

Jason huffed. "I just hope this doesn't spark Olympus War round two." He barked a humorless laugh. "That would _definitely_ make a backfire of my presence."

Diana's upper lip twitched. "They couldn't if they _wanted_ to. We made damn sure of that." She frowned and gave him an earnest look. "We _will_ get your powers back, Jason. It'll take a little time to get ready, but we _will_ fix this."

To everyone's surprise, Jason smiled warmly as Alfred finished patching him up, rolling his shoulders. "Then there's nothing to worry about, right? Just a speedbump in the grand scheme of things." He chuckled incredulously. "Don't know why I was so upset to begin with."

Diana exchanged a worried look with her husband. "Because it was an inexcusable breach of your trust. No matter what harm can be fixed, you have every right to be angry."

Jason blinked, his face neutral once more. His only reply was a noncommittal hum, at least for the first minute that followed. "Anyway," he said finally, slapping his legs, "I'm gonna head to bed." He smirked and motioned to his bound injuries. "These things won't fix themselves, after all." He was the only one that chuckled at the joke. "G'night!"

Diana rose and embraced him tightly. "Good night, Jason."

When they broke apart, Bruce gave him a brief hug and pat on the back; Damian just exchanged a nod with his brother, and over everything Alfred cast a worried look. It wasn't until Jason vanished to the second floor, out of sight and earshot, that he made those worries known.

"Master Jason is still in shock."

"That'd be my guess," Bruce sighed.

Diana frowned deeper. "Or he's feeling everything and hiding it for our sakes."

No one refuted her.

"He'll be fine."

They all turned to Damian, who was frowning into a book.

"He's tougher than you all seem to think."

"And what makes you say that?" Bruce asked neutrally.

Damian looked up at him quizzically. "Because you two raised him," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

With that, he immediately returned to his book, silencing any further debate with a statement that was simultaneously dismissive and the closest he'd ever come to showing admiration for his younger brother.

Diana and Bruce still frowned. Tough or not, they both knew what it was like to lose an integral piece of themselves in an instant. They made each other a silent promise to keep an eye on him in the days to come—one Alfred had undoubtedly already made to himself.

All the eyes in the world couldn't have anticipated the devastating chain of dominos that Olympus' act of retribution had set in motion.

* * *

AN: Definitely the most emotionally negative chapter to date. This was more than a bit difficult to write for a number of reasons, but I hope I got my point across. I may want to rewrite this in the future.

Anyway, this begins a long, important story arc that introduces some important new characters and relationships, and gets into the meat of fulfilling Jason's mission. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

300 - To Victory: Jason vs Philippus/"Enough!"; Fever Dream: start-1:19—blade catch/Jason's fury/pinned, 1:19-1:45—Jason stops/convincing Phil/"I...yield"


	9. 2033

"You're sure this is going to work?"

Shazam's bright, cheery grin answered Jason before any of the other present magic users could reply. "Absolutely, kiddo. This'll be over in a pinch."

Zatanna frowned at his exuberant reply, giving Jason a more tempered answer. "If Zeus and his cronies used the same technique they did with Diana, this ritual will restore what they stole."

Jason nodded at her slowly, leaning his head back as he laid flat on the stone altar prepared for the purpose. All told, it had taken less than a week to summon the magic needed to enact the restoration ritual Diana had mentioned after he returned from Themyscira. That magic took the form of three people: Shazam, Zatanna, and Dr. Fate; who had in particular been unusually difficult to convince to help. When Jason asked his father about Fate's reasons, Bruce had frowned and told him the doctor had only said, "His fate is clouded enough without my interference."

All the same, he caved and agreed to perform the ritual, which Jason would have to be unconscious for. Fortunately, that would be achieved with magic, not anesthesia…not that it would matter without his powers. A week later and the injuries he sustained during his ill-fated blood duel hadn't fully healed, so his metabolism was the same as any other human—along with everything else in his body. Seemed his abilities had been less physiology and more magical inheritance.

"How are you feeling?"

Jason turned to Bruce and smiled a little. "Little cold from the stone, but I'm okay otherwise."

He returned a small smile. "They'll get started soon. By the time you wake up, this'll hopefully be over."

"Hopefully," Jason agreed, facing upward again.

His eyes traced the colored stones etched and fitted between the larger stones that made up the ceiling. The Tower of Fate had interesting architecture, that was for sure. The climb up the tower was an endless Penrose staircase—or at least _could_ be if its mystic occupant decided there was a threat that merited such barriers. Of course, it wouldn't stop more powerful mystic entities from eventually breaking through to the inner sanctum at the top, but it would most certainly slow them down long enough to buy Kent and Nabu enough time to prepare themselves and more effective defenses.

For his fellow Leaguers and their son, however, the Tower was always open.

Quiet clicks on the stone floor alerted him to an incoming presence, and he leaned his head to the side to see his mother approaching with a reassuring smile. She stroked a hand through his hair as she met his eyes, warmth filling him as his own briefly flickered closed.

"What do you say we race back to Gotham after this?"

Jason opened his eyes and smiled up at her. "Deal." His smile turned wry. "Pity Dad won't be able to keep up," he added, intentionally raising his voice so Bruce could hear from the far side of the room.

Bruce arched an eyebrow at their shared grins, arms crossed as he shook his head with a smile.

Diana snorted a laugh. "Knowing him, he'll probably find a way to get there first anyway."

They shared a chuckle, their pleasant familial moment interrupted by Zatanna's return with Fate and Shazam close on her heels.

"All right, guys," she said. "We're ready to begin." Zee turned to Jason, gently moving herself between the boy and his mother to get his attention. "Now, I'd like you to count down from ten for me, nice and slow."

Jason nodded, well used to the procedure. "Ten, nine, eight…"

Zatanna straightened up and motioned over him, her voice taking on a mystical echo as she uttered a spell to kick things off. " _Peels ekil eht daed_ ," she cast, and immediately Jason's eyes slipped shut and voice fell silent.

…

Bruce frowned at Jason's unconscious form, straightening up from his leaning position against the far wall to join his wife with an arm around her.

"Let us begin," came Dr. Fate's echoing voice as he joined the other two in a triangular formation around the altar, same as they had with Diana just over a year previous.

Strange chants and utterings came from all three in languages Bruce barely recognized, though whether that was from the unnatural overlap of their words or the ancient dialects preferred by the three mystics, he couldn't tell. Gemstones around the circumference of the room and the base of the altar began to shimmer and glow in sequence. He remembered witnessing this process the first time; it unnerved him then too, though that might've been because of the dire circumstances serving as the backdrop for Diana's restoration. After all, the only members of the Justice League capable of matching Olympians in raw power were the people in this room and Kryptonians, and everyone (including Zeus and his lackeys) knew Superman and his family didn't fare well against magic.

That the current Superboy, Jonathan Kent, had been a mere twelve years old at the time hadn't spared him from their wrath in the least. In fact, after stripping Diana of her powers, they'd made a point of assaulting the Kent farm with their strongest fighters first. Their attempt to preempt Clark's resistance had been marginally successful due to the element of surprise, but once the League had caught on and sent reinforcements in the form of two Green Lanterns and Captain Atom (who had blasted all the Supers with an extended burst of yellow sun radiation), they quickly withdrew and moved onto phase two. All told, the conflict had lasted almost three full months, leaving behind devastation the world hadn't seen since the Sinestro Corps War.

It wasn't until Dr. Fate and Shazam dug up an ancient recipe to restore Diana's powers that the tide shifted, though it had certainly come to a standstill thanks to the timely intervention of one of Olympus' own. Past experiences and the various myths surrounding Olympus' celestial tenants had created a permanent first instinct of suspicion in Bruce's mind, something that had intensified exponentially after what they did to Diana. But historically, the one who'd come to them was among their most level-headed, if more than a bit vindictive. In this case, her vengeful nature had been directed at her own murderous family, and the Justice League—not to mention militaries around the world—had been on the ropes for a while. They hadn't exactly been in a position to refuse help.

And what able help she had been…

Mid-chant, Zatanna paused, her eyebrows crinkling as she frowned. "Something's…off."

Diana tuned in more closely. "How do you mean?"

"Yeah," Shazam agreed, "feels different from when we tried it on you." He smiled anyway. "Shouldn't be anything to worry about though. I mean, we only have one example for comparison, after all."

Despite his enthusiasm, Bruce couldn't help but frown along with Diana. In the week that Jason had been without his powers, they'd seen a sharp drop in his grades. Not because his intelligence had diminished (though the _speed_ of his mind had decreased significantly), but, they suspected, because he was so distraught over losing such a huge a piece of himself. Or perhaps it was because he'd been banned from suiting up and going on patrol. Admittedly, he hadn't put up much of a fight, but Bruce knew firsthand what being forced out of the field could do when you enjoyed your work.

Jason had, however, insisted that he at least be allowed on comms. to back them up from an information perspective. Bruce said yes, despite the fact that Alfred and Oracle were much more experienced, mostly because locking him out of the family business completely would feel like a rejection and was just _wrong_ , especially since with the exception of Diana, no one else in the "family" had powers to start with. He'd adapted to his new role fairly quickly, as they'd expected, but everyone could see how much he itched to be out there with them. Hopefully this would go off without a hitch and he would be by end of day.

Turning his eyes on his unconscious son, Bruce heard the chanting slowly but surely rising to a fever pitch, the glow of the magic gems strewn about intensifying to the point where it hurt his eyes. Suddenly, runes etched into the border of the altar glowed a fiery orange, briefly forming a luminescent aura around Jason's body. Bruce's frown deepened. Diana's aura had been gold, not the pale gray that surrounded Jason. Little by little, the light show faded, and the sorcerers' arms drifted back to their sides, save for Fate, whose hands clasped behind his back as he uttered three words with finality.

"It is done."

…

The moment his eyes had closed, Jason's mind drifted to a place he hadn't visited in months, specifically memories of his own time. He'd avoided reflecting on his past (or future, depending on one's perspective) at all costs for several reasons, not insignificantly the vast trauma and stress of that period in the timeline. However, in this case, he hardly had a choice. Recent memories weren't much better, and whatever spell Zatanna had used on him began shunting his mind in directions he didn't want to go as soon as he went under.

…

 _Dark blue eyes scanned over a flat screen, the only light in the otherwise pitch-black room. It had always been difficult for him to sleep in anything but pitch darkness, a fact his parents had accounted for when they hung up blackout curtains in his room. Strangely, he'd never been afraid of the dark, perhaps because his father was practically its living embodiment. The shadows were a bat's best friends, after all._

But they're gone now, _he thought, jaw clenching in fury._

 _Yes, fury, for he couldn't allow himself to succumb to grief. The screen showed a recording from several days earlier, a gruesome scene in an all-too-familiar backdrop. He froze the playback on a still of his older brother's face, cold green eyes flanked by flecks of blood_ _ _—not his own__ _ _ _ _—___ that peppered his face. Jaw clenching, he closed the feed and flipped his laptop shut, staring into the darkness for a good half-minute before opening the computer again and remotely tapping into the Batcomputer's database. He'd installed a backdoor into it after Damian had locked himself in there for the better part of a week, which was how he'd found that recording in the first place._

 _Instead of going back to that file, he accessed a list of dossiers on the various enemies and allies made by the Batman over the years and found one that had at one point or another fallen into both categories. A relatively current address and contact info were processed and memorized before he disconnected and flipped the computer shut before his brother detected his intrusion and shut him out permanently. He brandished his phone and sent a self-deleting worm into the manor's perimeter security system before slipping out his window and taking off into the night._

 _The dream-like memory faded to an indistinct gray blur for a moment before resolving into a sight that would become more welcoming than his own room in the days to come. A large, vertical neon sign saying "HOTEL" flickered with damage and disrepair owing to the fact that the building itself was abandoned. Jason knew better. The hood of his jacket was pulled up against the torrential rain that poured down, his body crouched on the edge of an adjacent rooftop as he scanned the dilapidated building for signs of life._

 _Once upon a time, this hotel had been a front and secret headquarters for the Outlaws, but now, years after they disbanded…it only housed one._

 _An ominous click sounded from behind him, but it made him smile all the same._

" _Hello, Jason," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice as he turned to face down the barrel of a gun some eight feet off._

 _A pair of glowing white lenses stared back at him from a red backdrop, barely visible under a brown canvas hood. A huff came from its wearer as he lowered the .40 caliber pistol in his right hand. "Hello, Jason," he returned in the same tone, though more grating with the electronic filter on his mask._

 _Jason Wayne nodded to the Red Hood with a determined look in his eyes and a wave at the run-down hotel at his back. "Let's talk."_

…

When Jason's eyes opened to see the mosaic-like ceiling above the altar, he immediately knew something was wrong. Several blinks later, he stretched his hands out to his sides, flexing his fingers a few times and stretching out to access his powers. A smile slowly spread over his lips, and he felt more than saw his approaching parents' elation. It faded when they heard the sardonic, bitter chuckles that bubbled from his throat.

"Well," he said, low and angry, "guess our little race will have to wait."

When his eyes turned to Bruce and Diana, he saw the same mix of disappointment, frustration, and anger he felt. But he also saw something else that set his teeth on edge, at least in his mother: pity. Jaw tightening, he swung his legs off the altar, catching a glimpse of Zatanna's concentrated frown in his peripheral vision as she read from an ancient-looking book.

"I don't understand," she said to no one in particular. "This should've worked. We performed the ritual _perfectly_."

Jason's upper lip twitched in annoyance. "Guess the mongrel doesn't play by the same rules."

Zee looked at him with wide eyes, surprised at the bitterness lacing his tone.

He cursed internally. None of this was her fault, was _any_ of their fault. They didn't need to help him but they had tried anyway, and he was being a dick about it. A hard sigh left his chest as he grunted his way off the altar.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Zatanna's lips pursed as she slowly returned her eyes to the tome.

Jason began pacing across the room, tense as a high wire as the others watched him warily. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to _scream_ , and he didn't even know why. Well, actually, he knew _exactly_ why. He'd trusted his harpy of a grandmother to have his back by virtue of sharing his blood and been burned spectacularly. A small, empathic part of him tried to remind him that she'd been trapped in a gilded cage for centuries with only memories of the tyrannical rapists that had enslaved her people to keep her company. The enraged, vindictive part of him didn't care. Given the circumstances, rage won out.

"Well, thank you for trying," Jason said heatedly after about a minute of stewing and pacing.

He tried very hard to keep the frustration out of his voice and failed spectacularly, as evidenced by Shazam's dejected look his way. That in particular forced Jason to take a calming breath. In this time or any other, Billy's sunny disposition and enthusiasm had always made him a personal favorite of anyone who knew him. To see him so let down by his own performance made Jason want to sink into the ground. Another calming breath entered his lungs before he spoke again, his tone much more subdued.

"Really," he sighed, "thank you for trying. None of this is your fault."

Shazam gave him a small nod as Diana sidled up behind Jason and put an arm around his shoulders.

"We should head home."

Jason nodded silently.

Zatanna frowned and abandoned the tome to approach the Waynes. "I'll keep searching when I have the time, okay? The answer is out there somewhere."

"We appreciate it," Bruce replied. He turned and nodded to the other two. "Shazam, Doctor, always a pleasure."

"Back at ya, Bats," the former replied.

Dr. Fate said nothing as they turned for the exit, speaking only when Jason was halfway through the door. "A parting word, if I may?"

His deep, echoing voice stopped the boy in his tracks. Jason looked over his shoulder, a shiver of disquiet passing down his spine as he gazed into the infinite white of Nabu's eyes.

"Beware your anger, Jason Wayne."

The shiver intensified at his near-prophetic tone of voice.

"It will never give you what you truly desire."

Jason's lips pursed as he nodded absently, turning back around to keep walking. He knew better than to ask for an explanation, but the warning would plague him long after they left Salem behind.

The words of Fate were never clear, but rarely were they wrong.

…

When they got back to Wayne Manor, Jason's mood had soured considerably. Without the need to placate the hurt feelings and egos of the sorcerers that had attempted to restore his powers, his attitude and disposition quickly deteriorated. When Diana went to console him, Bruce knew it wasn't going to end well.

Jason shrugged her off immediately, his tone short and clipped as he made his stance clear. "I don't need your pity, Mom."

She stopped short and stared at him. "Pity? Is that what you think this is?"

He visibly held back a snarl. "Hardly a difficult deduction when it's written all over your face."

From a nearby room, Bruce caught a glimpse of Damian, who was watching the exchange with unveiled interest.

"I made you a promise," Diana reminded him.

"A promise you were unable to keep." He waved dismissively, turning for the stairs to his room. "Done. Let's move on now."

Her eyes narrowed. "We're not finished here."

" _I_ am," he called back, not breaking his stride up the steps.

"Jason," Bruce said, his tone hard and commanding.

A visible flinch ran through his body at the word, stopping him in his tracks for just a moment before he resumed his climb.

Diana frowned. "I'm sorry."

Jason whirled toward him, eyes blazing with rage. "And just how does that help me _now_?!" He smiled sardonically, waving at both of them. "You're sorry, he's sorry, your _mother's_ sorry." He stomped his way down the steps. "Everyone's _sorry_ , but it doesn't change a damn thing, _does_ it?!"

"Watch your tone," Bruce warned.

Jason snarled and crossed his arms. "Or what?" Another sardonic smile. "You'll ground me?" He shrugged, putting on a nonchalant air. "Thought you already did." He tapped his chin and looked up in mock contemplation. "Or do you consider that probation?"

"You're not prepared to be out in the field without your abilities," Bruce said. "You've built your entire MO around them."

"You've had a week to teach me how to adapt and done _nothing_."

"Because we thought you'd have them back by now," Diana reminded him. "We were wrong."

"Obviously," he hissed.

She took a deep breath to calm her own rising ire. "Jason, I understand your frustration. I share it, but taking it out on us is not going to help—"

"Right, because being calm and collected has done so much for us."

"Son—"

Jason snarled and took a step toward her, the movement alone cutting her off. "Let's stop mincing words, shall we? We both know you set all of this in motion when your bright idea sent me into the lion's den _alone_. So please, do us all a favor and stop trying to _use_ me to salve your own guilt over letting that woman betray the son _you_ _never asked for_."

Bruce's blood went ice-cold, as did his eyes when he saw the pain in Diana's. A mere glance at Jason's steadily reddening features showed the immense depths of shame and self-loathing he felt. Bruce didn't care.

He pointed at the steps and lowered his voice near a growl. "Room. Now."

Jason's eyes glanced between them rapidly, uncertainly, before his regretful eyes hardened once more, his reply coming out low and toneless. "Thought you'd never ask."

And with that, he stormed his way up the stairs and out of sight.

…

When Damian Wayne had first met Diana, his first impression was a naïve girl in a woman's body, so different and _inferior_ to his own mother. When his father had deigned to let her further and further into his life, Damian thought it a grave error in judgment. And then Batman had been trapped under a collapsing building and his mask caved in so far it blocked his windpipe completely. She didn't hesitate to rip it off and push air into his lungs with her own, despite not knowing who he was underneath, despite knowing the anger she'd be on the receiving end of when he found out she exposed his identity without his permission. And she most certainly had been.

Bruce Wayne rarely let his ironclad composure slip, but when he'd opened his eyes to find hers staring back at him unimpeded by cowl or lenses, he had immediately, as the kids say, "freaked." What had followed was a half-panicked tirade of fear and anger, the latter of which served to mask the former as he summarily banished her from Gotham and his life. Diana had stared at him for a long moment after the particular declaration of, "We're done." And in that moment, Damian had seen something in her eyes he never anticipated.

Understanding.

There was hurt there, yes, frustration absolutely, but unlike Selina Kyle and Silver St. Cloud and the numerous other trollops that had darkened his father's doorstep over the years…she understood. Perhaps it was her empathic abilities, or perhaps just the naïve perspective he'd been so disparaging of, a lack of jading and negative experiences that would've stoked the anger she no doubt felt in that moment. Whatever the case, Diana Prince had been the first woman—perhaps the first _person_ —Damian had seen look at Bruce when he lashed out and saw it for the expression of terror and desperation that it was.

She had respected his wishes and left promptly after with a quiet word of goodbye he didn't return. But when barely a week later, three of his worst enemies descended on Gotham in a torrent of fire and blood, she showed up in the cave unannounced and unasked for, and refused to take no for an answer when she offered her assistance. Bruce vehemently refused her help. She refused to ignore the fear and guilt in his eyes. And for perhaps the first time in history, someone out-stubborned the Batman. Damian blessed whatever act of chance or providence that had allowed him to witness it, the moment his father let his emotional walls down and let her see the brutal truth about him—without even _needing_ her lasso.

It was that very moment he had begun to respect her.

The days and months that followed, when she nursed him back to health after his near-death encounter with Bane that night, then when she confronted the woman who had utterly broken Bruce's spirit not long after handing him their secret child…

That was when he started to love her.

He hadn't meant to, told himself over and over that no one would ever hold a candle to his mother. And then he'd heard those words come from Talia's own mouth, words that would forever be etched into his memory.

" _Not my mission, not my love, not even our_ son _could bring you to my side!"_

After everything, every agonizing minute of tests and training, Damian had been nothing more than a tool to her. Her _and_ his grandfather. A small, vindictive—perhaps even matricidal—part of him was sorry Diana had only broken her arm before kicking her loose. Although Diana's threat of certain death should she _ever_ darken Bruce's door again certainly salved it a bit. Ra's himself had been on the wrong end of an oil rig explosion courtesy of Tim Drake's psychotic cousin.

Despite Damian's standoffish, even disapproving attitude, she had never been anything less than compassionate and caring toward him. The day after they returned home following that debacle, he worked up every nerve he had and swallowed his monumental pride with an apology that she took in stride. She was far less physically affectionate with him than Jason or any of the others, but again, she just seemed to understand that he wouldn't appreciate it. This time, though, not even that had stopped her from embracing him. The comfort and understanding and _respect_ he had felt in the warmth she exuded left him no choice but to hug her back.

So, to witness what had just transpired between her and the ungrateful _meddler_ that had just stormed to his room…well, to say it set a fire in Damian's blood would be putting things mildly.

His rapid, angry steps from the study to the stairs caught their attention and a call stopped him mid-stride.

"Let him go," Diana said.

Damian looked at her over his shoulder like she'd grown a second head.

"I mean it," she said with a frown. "Don't."

"His disrespect—"

"Will be dealt with later," Bruce interrupted.

"Father," Damian protested, tone frustrated, "if I had mouthed off like that, being ordered to my room would be the _least_ of my worries."

His lips pursed tightly, head shaking slightly. "It's not the same."

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Because I don't share _both_ your blood?"

He regretted it as soon as it left his lips. That wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all, especially considering the menagerie of orphans and abandoned that they'd adopted over the years and treated as their own. But he was prideful and angry and any apology was strangled in the bottom of his throat.

"No," she replied evenly, taking it in stride. Her eyes showed that same understanding, and it shamed him even more. "He's just lost something invaluable and needs to vent his anger somehow. I'd rather it happen here than on some hapless person out there."

Damian's eyes widened slightly as he glanced between them. " _That's_ why you banned him from entering the field."

"One of many reasons," Bruce admitted.

He frowned. "Regardless, he needs to learn respect. Anger is no excuse to act as he did."

"And we will deal with it; let it go, Damian," Bruce ordered, his tone brooking no room for discussion.

Barely restraining a snarl, he cast a baleful look up the steps and huffed off to the Batcave, where he took his anger out on practice dummies with a mixture of shuriken, sword-strokes, and bare-knuckled punishment. He pounded the durable plastic so hard his knuckles began to ache, then bruise, almost to the point of shredding his skin. A faint click of metal was heard somewhere behind him, catching his attention long enough to glance back and see Alfred dropping off a covered meal tray.

"Late lunch, Master Damian?"

Damian frowned and huffed, turning back to the dummy. "I'm not hungry."

"Be that as it may, it may behoove you to at least take a short break to hydrate."

He rolled his eyes and lowered his taped-up hands, mentally admitting the butler had a point as he wiped a heavy sheen of sweat off his brow. He grabbed a liter of water from the space next to the tray, finding it ice-cold. He ignored the brain-freeze that threatened to assault him as he guzzled it down, grudgingly grateful for the old man's incessant thoughtfulness.

"Thanks," he muttered through a cough as he polished off the bottle.

"Of course, sir."

Damian turned back to resume his assault on the dummy, a brief flash of Jason's face replacing the mannequin's head.

"If I may, I believe I can shed some light on the situation I believe is plaguing you."

His blows hesitated for a moment. "I'm not in the mood, Pennyworth."

"Perhaps not, yet I fear you may do something rash if one does not make the effort to help you understand."

Damian snorted and turned to him. "What's to understand? My brother from the future is an insufferable, entitled twit."

Alfred's answering tone was as neutral and unflappable as ever. "Perhaps, or perhaps you simply lack the perspective to understand the depths of his loss."

As much as he hated the impending lecture he knew was coming, Damian hated being in the dark more, so crossed his arms and gave Alfred his undivided attention. "You're certainly welcome to try explaining."

The butler hummed and nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "I believe we both have firsthand experience of what betrayal feels like, how it warps emotions and thoughts."

Damian frowned. "Diana did not betray him. She repeatedly defended him."

"Be that as it may, she is the daughter of the person who did. In his subconscious, disillusioned mind, she represents all that has gone wrong in his life."

"That's unfair…and irrational."

Alfred smiled ruefully. "Our feelings are rarely rational, Master Damian. Remember, unlike many heroes in this world, Master Jason did not receive his abilities from an accident or other power later in life. He was _born_ with them. He has no prior context for life without them."

"That hardly excuses why he's so upset about losing his powers." He shrugged. "Surely his training would have included means of overcoming that."

The butler frowned. "I'm afraid the wound runs much deeper than that." He sighed, looking up in thought for a while. An idea sparked in his eye. "Tell me, Master Damian, what do you believe to be your greatest strength?"

He barely had to think. "My intelligence, of _course_."

Alfred nodded sagely. "Now imagine if you woke up one day to find it gone."

Damian felt unease creep into his bones as he started to get where this was going.

"Your mind now moved at a fraction of the speed, your memory fractured and unstable. Your greatest asset, your _birthright_ , _taken_ from you. How would you react?"

Damian's only answer was a pregnant silence.

Alfred gave him a smile and a parting word. "Do not be so quick to mete out judgment of others in anger…without first attempting to understand theirs."

Damian stood deep in thought as Alfred turned toward the table and collected the empty bottle, reaching out to take the tray as well.

"You can leave it there," Damian said, catching his attention. He nodded at the dummy. "I'll get to it when I'm done here." A moment passed before he added, "Thank you."

Alfred smiled and bowed his head slightly. "You are most welcome, sir."

Damian knew he didn't just mean for the food.

…

Jason laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts ran through his head a million at a time, pestering, distracting him from what he was trying so desperately not to feel. He failed miserably, so instead he shunted those feelings aside to focus on his rage. A sardonic smile creased his lips as Fate's warning rang in his head once more. The longer he laid there, the more emotional conflict he felt. He knew he had to apologize, _profusely_ , but in his current emotional state he didn't know how genuine it would come across. So instead he looked inward, to the memories brought forth by Zatanna's spell…

…

 _The run-down hotel room that served as the Red Hood's "living room" was telling enough of the older Jason's state of mind these days. The careless way he threw himself back-first on the couch was even more so. He leaned back on his hands, his helmet having taken its place on the coffee table between them as Jason stood in his dripping leather jacket._

 _The Hood looked up at him quizzically, his relaxed posture at odds with the tension in his voice. "What can I do for you, Jace?"_

 _Jason's lips pursed tightly. "I need your help, Jay."_

 _Jay blinked and snorted. "I'm not exactly the best shoulder to cry on, so if that's what you're after—"_

 _"No."_

 _Todd arched an eyebrow at the harshness in his tone._

 _Jason's hands clenched into fists. "I've done more than enough of that already."_

 _"Kid, the only things I'm good for are shooting, stabbing, and breaking things."_

 _"Exactly."_

 _His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You can learn all of that from your brother, so why come to me?"_

 _Jace measured his words. "You seen the new Batman's handiwork?"_

 _Jay blinked slowly, his expression hard and tinged with madness for an instant. "Would've been hard not to. To be honest, I wish I'd come up with it first." He stared at the ceiling. "And had the stones to follow through."_

 _"But that's not you anymore."_

 _He snorted. "I have bad days."_

 _"More importantly, it's not what the Batman should be."_

 _Jay stared at him. "You want me to help you take him down."_

 _Jace smirked and shrugged. "In a manner of speaking, though nothing quite so pedestrian."_

 _"…I'm listening."_

 _Jace took a seat opposite him and leaned on his knees. "Tell me…what do you know about time travel?"_

…

Jason smiled at the memory.

His namesake's answer had sparked the mission that had brought him to 2017, fleshing out details he hadn't even considered and giving him exactly the skills he needed to get the job done. Skills that were now going to waste given his weakened state. Frowning, Jason slowly got up and made his way to the door, pausing when he heard animated voices on the other side and pressing his ear to the wood to listen in.

"I don't know how to reach him." Diana's voice sounded pained, desperate.

Jason felt his heart ache at the sound.

"I'm not sure we can right now," Bruce answered. "He's hurting, angry…I was the same way when I lost my parents, and in a way his world just collapsed almost as badly."

A sigh. "I know, but Damian had a point. We can't just let him run wild as he is; he'll hurt himself or someone else, and I'm not talking about feelings."

"If he does run off, we have ways to track him, but you can't afford to put monitor duty off any longer."

"I know," she replied softly. A soft smack indicated a brief kiss. "Will you keep an eye on him?"

"Of course. Two if I can spare them."

She chuckled softly. "I love you, Bruce."

"Love you too, princess."

Jason backed away from the door and frowned in thought as her soft steps led toward the Batcave elevator. Suddenly, his chest was too tight and the house was far too claustrophobic. His eyes narrowed as an idea occurred to him, his phone coming out and the time-capsule going in for a brief minute as he checked something. A minute later, the backdoor he'd reinstalled in the present showed him a live feed of the cave's security cameras. Once he verified that Damian was elsewhere and his mother was in the process of teleporting to the Watchtower, he set his plan in motion and climbed out his window to the ground floor. Jimmying the lock on a first-floor window, he vaulted inside and closed it behind him, making his way to the study.

He was little surprised to find that his biometrics had been locked out of the system when he tried to use the elevator, but the manual override codes still worked and permitted him entry. Three minutes later, he was suited up in an armor he never remembered being so heavy and appropriating a few things from various lockers around the cave. Once everything was set, he keyed Robin's motorcycle on and installed the same self-deleting worm into the cave's security feeds to wipe all traces of his actions, then sped out the exit hatch and toward a Gotham City that was just entering the darkness of night.

…

"All I'm saying is, there comes a point where understanding has to give way to discipline."

"And while I agree," Bruce countered, "I'm not sure what more we can do. Jason is in mourning, Damian; he's hurt and vulnerable and antagonizing him is not going to help."

Damian snorted as they stepped off the elevator together. "I'm not proposing we antagonize him, I'm just saying—"

Bruce's hand came up as he stopped short, silencing Damian. "Something's off."

Damian scanned the cave on high alert, eyes narrowing when he detected something out of place. "Father…" his eyes widened when he drew closer, "oh hell."

"What is it?"

Damian pointed at an empty armor chamber with a deadpan expression. "I think I found the problem."

Bruce cursed under his breath and dashed to the Batcomputer, pulling up Jason's trackers and cameras. Not one of them pinged back when accessed. Another curse spat from his mouth, louder this time.

"He disabled them."

Damian frowned. "How? Considering how creative you got about placement, I doubt he could've found them all." He blinked as something occurred to him. "Unless…" He moved to his own armor locker, specifically the belt pouch that housed his portable EMPs. "He took an EMP with him." He frowned deeper. "But how would that help? His suit is future tech, EMP-shielded."

"The suit is," Bruce agreed with a shake of the head, "the trackers aren't. All he'd have to do is place the device underneath the armor and set it off once they activate and he'd fry them all at once."

Then _Damian_ swore. "And now the idiot's in the wind and we have _no_ idea where he might've gone."

Bruce pulled up the last tracker data the cave had received. "He had just entered the city limits when he must've set it off."

"And he would've known enough to avoid a direct trajectory to wherever he was going until they were disabled."

"Dammit," Bruce sighed, wiping a hand over his face. Another moment passed before a steely look entered his eyes and he met Damian's gaze. "Suit up. Patrol's suspended until we find him."

Damian's lips pursed tightly. "Agreed. And when we do, I'm gonna kick the sh—" he hesitated at Bruce's rising eyebrow, "—enanigans out of him."

Bruce's only reply was an indistinct hum as he made his way to his armor chamber. Damian did likewise, frowning the whole time and promising himself that one way or another, he was going to have _words_ with his brother by the end of the night.

…

Finding him wasn't the problem. The time-capsule had made that child's play. Approaching without getting shot, now there was the challenge. Especially since his armor now felt about six times heavier than it used to, which is to say barely there. The weight made his movements a little sluggish, though he could still get around okay. Having to travel at less than Mach speed was…unusual. He hadn't had to use a motor vehicle while armored up in _years_. Though the discomfort was offset somewhat by the fact that he'd jacked Damian's R-cycle. That made him smile.

He locked the vehicle down in a stealth mode that turned its traffic-light color scheme into a matte-black configuration that would keep it concealed in its dark alley. He reached down to his belt, brandishing his grapnel and hesitating for a moment before adjusting the miniaturized electromagnetic turbine in the barrel to forces that _wouldn't_ dislocate his arm. A small sigh left his lips as he bemoaned his diminished strength for the infinite time since Olympus had cursed him, pointing the device at a nearby rooftop and pulling the trigger. A quiet puff of air signaled a successful fire, and a momentary shock of tension through the cable alerted him to a successful snag.

He hit the reel a moment later and felt his stomach lurch as he was pulled into the air, every so often scuffing his soles against the brick wall of the building to prevent from smashing into it face-first on the way up. Jason pulled himself onto the roof once the line stopped, climbing atop a nearby water tower and engaging his multispectral lenses to scan for the figure he knew was skulking around. He didn't have to wait long, but decided it would be better to greet him from afar.

Seconds after making positive ID, a faint whir cut through the howling wind of Gotham City, the man who heard it whirling around with dual .40 caliber pistols drawn and at the ready. He tensed for a split-second before ducking out of the way—unnecessarily, as he realized when the incoming object flew right past him and imbedded itself in the wall at his back. Slowly, the Red Hood turned to face the source, catching a glimpse of something glinting in the faint moonlight. Cautiously rounding a corner of AC units, he stopped dead in his tracks when he came face-to-face with an armored figure leaning back against one of those units with his arms crossed and a faint smirk visible behind his helmet.

That smirk turned into a full-blown grin a second later. "Hello Jason. "

The Hood stared at him for a full five seconds before apparently deciding the unexpected interloper wasn't about to cause trouble and holstered his weapons. "New kid," he grated through the armored mask.

The figure huffed and groaned. "No-no-no, you're supposed to say, 'hello Jason,' back."

Jason Todd gave him a flat look and crossed his arms. "Hello Jason back."

The other Jason rolled his eyes and huffed with a dismissive wave. "Eh, whatever." Jason approached the Hood with unguarded steps. "Heard you'd be out and about around here. We missed you at the wedding, so I was hoping I'd run into you."

Red looked over his shoulder as Jason strode past, keeping a weather eye on him at all times. "Strange to hear coming from one of Batman's lapdogs."

He cleared his throat. "One of his _kids_ , you mean." A chuckle. "I'm surprised nobody's spilled the beans to you yet."

His eyes never left Jason's relaxed form. "I'm not exactly in the loop these days."

"I know," Jason sighed, propping himself up to sit on another AC. "But still. Thought we should get to know each other better. You know, hang out with the _other_ side of the family." A sardonic laugh bubbled out of him. "Well, the other _other_ side of the family, I guess."

The Red Hood kept staring at him, and Jason got the feeling there was a confused frown on the other side of that faceless mask.

He huffed and pushed himself off the rooftop unit. "Look, I didn't feel like sticking around the manor tonight, and I could do with blowing off some steam. Mind if I hang with you?"

He almost laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," he replied flippantly.

Todd eyed him suspiciously. "Now why would one of Bruce's loyal spawn want to be around the degenerate prodigal?"

Something entered Jason's just-visible eyes that caught the older man's attention, his voice lowering dangerously. "Let's just say I have some anger to burn…and I don't think Batman would appreciate how I'd like to."

"I don't know a damn thing about you, kid. Why would I take you with me? Especially if I know you'll hesitate."

"Because I won't hesitate." He drew close, almost close enough for his breath to fog Red's lenses. "And because you understand what betrayal feels like…and the rage that follows."

For a long moment, they stared each other down, and then Todd snorted and shrugged as he turned away.

"Your funeral," he muttered. He stopped short when Jason didn't seem to follow, waving at him. "You comin' or what?"

…

"If you're gonna hang with me, I have two rules. First and foremost: _never_ hesitate. Always commit to whatever you start. Hesitation costs you your life. Second: you follow my lead. Fall behind, argue with me, and you're out. Clear?"

The Knight nodded, his helmet glinting with the reflection of the city lights. "Clear." He nodded at the Hood. "Do I get a piece?"

Red stared at him for a moment in surprise before humming and reaching to the back of his belt, pulling out one of his .40 caliber pistols. "Here, take my backup."

Jason nodded and ejected the magazine, stripping it and snapping the round out of the gun's chamber. He opened a large pouch at the back of his belt and began feeding his own bullets into the mag, noting absently that Red was staring at him the whole time.

"Rubber bullets? Seriously?"

Jason smirked behind his helmet. "I said I'd play by your rules. I never specified which ones."

He could hear the frown in Red's reply. "The guys we're going after tonight have military-grade equipment, which means automatics, high-impact, explosives, maybe even high-grade body armor." He nodded at the rounds still being loaded. "Those dum-dums aren't gonna do shit against a vest."

His smirk widened as he snapped the mag into the empty weapon. "Then I guess I'll just have to aim for the head." Jason racked the slide back and appropriated three more empty magazines from his new partner before loading them up as well. "Who _are_ we going after tonight?"

The Red Hood was silent for a second before replying. "Gun runners out of Star City, trying to expand their operations into Gotham."

"Are we stealing or destroying?"

"Destroying," he said. "I have more than enough kit where I hang my head."

The Knight nodded and turned his gaze to the empty skies. His gaze snapped back to Red. "What's the location like?"

Red pulled out a phone and pulled up images of an open-topped skyscraper still under construction. "Open air, with several buildings around that overlook it. For the most part, it's a shooting gallery, except for the room with the guns. That's the only finished section on the top floor, and reinforced from what I can tell, otherwise I would've RPGed it and been done already."

"So we have to get inside and bomb it ourselves."

"Pretty much, yeah." He hesitated. "Although…" he glanced Jason's way, "now that you're here…" His head shook.

Jason blinked. "What?"

"Too dangerous."

He arched an eyebrow. "What's the idea?"

Red sighed hard and waved at the rooftop. "Having us both down there would limit our range of movement, leave us more susceptible to counterattack if they call for backup."

A frown. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I go in up close while you provide overwatch."

The Knight snorted. "Nope. Not a chance." He waved dismissively. "I was never the greatest sniper."

The Hood stared at him. "I'm not going to pull my punches, or my shots. If I pull the trigger, they die."

Jason blinked and stared back. "Did I ever demand otherwise?"

After a long pause, he huffed and nodded. "I'm on overwatch then." He pocketed the phone and stood up. "Just hope you can pull your weight on the ground."

He didn't reply, only followed the Red Hood to the roof where he'd set up his weapon of choice, a compact bolt-action rifle. The Knight recognized it from the Hood's collection in 2033. With a thermal scope, a straight-pull bolt, and reinforced parts, the weapon could fire ammunition of all types and grain. If he remembered correctly, Red preferred tungsten-tipped .338 Lapua Magnum rounds as his mainstay, loaded with enough powder to send it shearing through almost six inches of solid steel. For more…exotic enemies, he had a host of other ammo types, though against run-of-the-mill arms dealers, Jason didn't expect they'd be coming out to play.

As he lay prone and set up a bipod mounted to the rifle's barrel, the Red Hood glanced Jason's way. "So what do they call you in the field?"

He blinked at the question, taking a moment to double-check his own firearm and his ready stock of gadgets. "Knight."

Red paused his prep for a moment. "Seriously? Little unoriginal, don't you think?"

He sighed and crouched by the Hood's side. "It's a work in progress. I never planned on sticking around long enough to get a codename."

Another pause. "So you're another one of Bruce's dirty little secrets."

His head shook. "No, though if you start digging into my past, it'll certainly look that way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jason sighed hard. "My name is Jason Thomas Wayne."

Jason could _feel_ Todd stiffen at his side.

"I came here from 2033 a little over a month ago."

"…damn."

"Yeah." He checked the barrel of his borrowed gun to ensure a round was chambered. "That's about the size of it."

"Why?"

"Kill someone before they became a threat."

Red looked up at him for a couple heartbeats before nodding once and turning back to look through the scope. "I'm seeing a lot of movement on the roof and the floors below. Looks like it's shipping day."

Jason frowned. "Sending or receiving?"

"Little of both, looks like, though I get the feeling they're taking in money, not guns."

"So they've already started selling here."

"That'd be my guess."

The Knight rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. "Then I better get down there and take a closer look."

"Roger." Red pulled his phone out and tapped a few keys to show him the frequency his helmet comm. was tuned to. "Link up and stay in contact."

Jason used a holographic panel on his left gauntlet to make the appropriate adjustments to his own link, then took another breath and planned his incursion. Seconds later, he swan-dived off the Red Hood's perch and spread his arms for extra air resistance before deploying his sword and stabbing it into the wall behind him. The sudden jolt of the razor-sharp metal entering concrete shook him, but his arms remained strong. Hardly surprising given what the weapon was composed of…

…

 _"So, the sword…tribute to your mother?"_

 _Jason frowned at his elder namesake. "She trained me to use one, yeah, and with my powers it makes sense once I close the distance. Plus, there's nothing better for disabling enemy weapons than something that can cleave right through 'em."_

 _Jay hummed and nodded as he gave the aforementioned weapon a few tentative swings. "It feels…weirdly weighted. Almost like it's not there at all." He frowned at the blade, turning to stare at Jace, who was field stripping one of his carbines for practice. "What the hell is this thing_ made _of?"_

 _"Nth-metal," he replied almost instantly, a deep frown creasing his features. "Cheetah had some_ insane _magical abilities when she murdered Mom and Dad. When I go after her, I might run afoul of whoever or_ what _ever gave them to her. So…" he waved vaguely in Jay's direction, not taking his eyes off the gun, "I had Mr. Fox make_ that _. Figured I'd hedge my bets with every advantage money can buy."_

 _"Huh…and Damian doesn't know a thing about this?"_

 _Jace's face turned stony. "I can't trust him. Even if I could, I know how unyielding he can be." He finished reassembling the firearm, loading the mag and snapping a round into its chamber as he aimed down the sights. "And I can't have him getting in my way."_

 _"Fair enough," Jay said with a shrug._

 _He flicked the switch on the side of the weapon's hilt, returning the blade back to its concealed form and laying it down as he inspected Jace's work with the rifle. He glanced at a watch on his wrist, making a mental note before voicing it. "Fifty seconds, perfect assembly. Not bad." He stopped and reset the timer. "Now do it faster."_

 _The boy immediately began tearing it apart in rapid, precise movements as his teacher looked on._

…

Slowly but surely, the Knight's falling body ground to a halt some ten stories below the target location on the opposite building. With one hand wrapped around the sword-hilt that served as his anchor, Jason braced himself against the wall and used his other hand to draw his grapnel. He aimed carefully and fired at the top of the target building, the winch reeling him up with a faint electromagnetic whir. Gripping the edge with both hands, he slowly pulled himself up to glance over the side, scanning for movement. A half-built concrete wall sat between him and the open air of the elliptical rooftop, but his eyes detected no motion.

"Five bodies on the roof with you," came Red's voice in his ear, "but none within line of sight. Move."

With that, he pulled himself up the rest of the way, retrieving his grapnel and grimacing at the unfamiliar burn of his muscles. He shuffled up to the wall and engaged the lenses of his cowl to see the same heat signatures Red told him about. He took away the thermal filter and sent a sonar pulse out, picking up the storage room they were after on the other side of the building. At present, it was guarded by two men armed with automatic rifles, reminding him of the door that had led to Lindsey and her family. Only this time, he didn't have the superhuman speed and strength to take on an army if they sounded the alarm.

Only his wits, his weapons, and a mildly sociopathic sniper on overwatch.

But the Knight knew from experience that Red's gun was _loud_. The moment he took a shot with that weapon, all bets were off and all hell would break loose. That thought prompted him to look up and spot a T-segment of steel girders riveted together some thirty feet up and halfway to his objective. If he could get up there, it would give him the perfect vantage point. He slowly made his way around the left side of his cover, narrowly dodging a pair of guards that chatted as they walked past a crude doorway between him and them. The moment they were out of sight, the Knight lunged across the gap and kept moving, his stance low and steps as silent as he could make them.

With the way the wind was howling, he doubted anyone would be able to hear anything quieter than a gunshot. Around the corner, he saw one of the guards on the door pull his jacket tighter around him after a particularly cold gust of wind. Pulling back, Jason aimed his grapnel at the highest beam and fired, the head digging into the metal with a faint click. Verifying that no one was looking at the wall he used for cover, he reeled himself up and crouched on the intersection of girders, taking a deep breath and surveying the enemy and terrain below.

Various crates and walls crisscrossed the mostly empty space, providing limited concealment and very little cover that would stop the veritable onslaught of gunfire sure to break out if he was caught. Not to mention that there were two doors leading downstairs to the small army of thugs on the floors below. Since there were two guards on the door to the guns, three more were roaming about the roof, checking the perimeter. The two he'd seen walk by earlier stood watching the direction he'd entered from, and he realized he'd picked the exact right moment to make his insertion. However, the roamers remained a problem. At any given point, one of the three would always be within line of sight of the door and two guards. Even if they turned away, he doubted he could subdue both in the time needed to avoid detection, not to mention he'd have to take care of the bodies and hack the electronic keypad…

Now more than ever, he wished so badly that he still had his powers. His strength and flight would've made this _so_ much easier.

Gritting his teeth, he thumbed his utility belt and looked to the lone guard at the far end of the roof. A predatory smile creased his lips when he realized the man was out of _everyone's_ line of sight. Seconds later, Knight landed feet-first on the man's shoulders, his right hand plowing his head into the concrete floor. He dragged him behind a nearby wall that would keep him out of sight long enough to accomplish the mission. Jason glanced around the corner, confirming that his assault had gone unnoticed. The roving pair was his next target.

A faint but sharp clang drew their attention to their right, their weapons coming to bear as they moved to investigate, unknowingly breaking line of sight with the two on the door. Rapid steps from behind reached the ears of one, prompting him to whirl around. His gun didn't make it halfway up before it was slashed in two, the pommel of Jason's sword nailing him in the jaw. A side-kick sent the other one's weapon flying off the roof as the Knight grappled with the first. The second guard lunged at him in a shoulder charge, finding himself sprawled out face-first into the concrete when Jason crouched and held his leg out, tripping him. Rising, Jason put his right bracer between him and an incoming haymaker, breaking the man's hand on impact at the same time his left palm slammed the thug's windpipe, stopping his scream.

The Knight rose with an uppercut that sent his attacker's teeth clicking together and eyes rolling back up into his head. The one on the ground scrambled to get to his feet and failed following a curb-stomp that resulted in a crack that was more than face on concrete. The two on the door were the last step before he could hack his way into the room. Planting the charges to destroy the guns would be the fastest part of the whole ordeal. Another grapnel shot brought him back up to his perch, and his right hand stowed his retracted sword while his left clicked a release opening a cylindrical container on his belt.

Moments later, one of the door guards frowned and scanned the rooftop for any signs of movement, having caught on that the others had stopped patrolling. He opened his mouth to point it out to his partner but let out coughs instead when a cloud of smoke erupted from between them. Knight dropped down a second later, again landing on one feet-first and pounding his head with several rapid straights before lunging for the other and ripping his gun from limp fingers. His arms went around the man's neck as he kicked his supporting leg out, gravity doing the rest as he choked out the last guard.

Jason took a moment to catch his breath before his earpiece clicked on again.

"Not bad, kid."

The words forced a smile onto his face as he gave the sniper a thumbs-up and turned to the keypad. Frowning, he snapped his lenses down and activated their mobile analysis mode.

 _Four-digit keypad…only three digits have marks._ His eyes narrowed. _One has more prints than the others. First key. One of these is used twice…the one with the second most prints._ He smirked. _And I doubt they'd be back to back…_

His gloved index rose to the keypad and entered 3-6-9-6. A reassuring beep and green light answered him. Jason pulled the door open and sighed in relief as he smiled again, tapping the side of his helmet.

"I'm in. Setting the charges now."

Barely thirty seconds later, when Jason had emptied his belt of its high explosives, the Red Hood's voice interrupted him in an alarmed tone.

"I don't know how, but they got wind you're in there. Dozen of 'em are forming up outside the storage room, with more on the way."

Jason shivered and froze, eyes roving over the walls as he activated his cowl's thermal vision. His jaw clenched when he spotted the faint heat of a minicam built into one of the walls and the men stationed outside. His hand dipped to the gun in his belt, eyes scanning the walls for any other exits than the front door. He'd just laid down the last of his charges, and couldn't afford to spare any to make another exit. Besides that, there was so much explosive material in the room so tightly packed that if even one went off, it risked blowing the whole enclosure sky-high, himself included. Gritting his teeth, he palmed a smoke pellet and flipped the pistol safety off.

"Stand by," came Red's voice before he could do something stupid. "When I say, pop smoke and run for cover."

"Roger," he answered, voice shaking with adrenaline.

For the first time since he left home, he worried that he'd bit off more than he could chew.

His fear-induced musings were interrupted by a supersonic crack that sent shouts of alarm through the men outside as half of them whirled toward the new threat. Well, the half that were left. One was on the ground spilling heat around his body while another checked on him and the rest ran for concealment from the new angle. Another shot rang out, another body hit the deck, and the other half of the group spun to face Red's perch as they all opened fire.

"Now!"

The Knight kicked the metal door open and tossed the pellet down between him and the enemy. His lenses kept the smoke out of his eyes and clear line of sight through a sonar pulse. He raised his pistol with smooth, familiar movements, the sight picture resolving over the center of a pulsing white shape. Jason's first two shots struck dead center. Panic struck the group as they registered a new source of fire. Pained cries cracked the air as one after another was pelted with hot rubber moving at near-Mach speeds, a few firing blind shots in his general direction.

None of them came close.

After every successful takedown, Jason moved on, closing in on the edge of the group and the best cover on the roof as the smoke began to dissipate. One of them spotted him and brought his carbine to bear. The sides of his head exploded before he got halfway when the Hood took another shot.

"Move!" Red screamed into his comm.

Jason didn't have to be told twice. He vaulted over the low wall the dead man had been using for cover, crouching down and popping out periodically to take shots at the thugs still moving. The doors leading downstairs burst open, and a fresh wave of gangsters joined the fight, all armed to the teeth and most of them sending suppressing fire in Red's direction, having pinned down his location. The rest advanced on Jason's cover, their guns sending high-powered automatic fire streaking through the weakest points of the wall. Jason flattened himself and crawled away from the focal point of their fire, all the way to the corner of the wall, where it would cover him even standing.

He rose to his feet and loaded a fresh mag, lunging around the corner when he heard the gunfire get within around eight feet of his wall. Six rounds spat from the pistol in rapid succession as he charged a group of four. Two went down screaming, the other two spinning to face him and opening fire as he plowed into one barrel-first. The one he tackled screamed in pain, first at having the pistol's steel barrel rammed into his shoulder, then at the searing heat that followed when Jason pulled the trigger and sent hot rubber into his body. He purposely oriented the screaming gunman between his body and the last one standing, lunging toward and shoving his comrade into him.

Trapped under the weight of the screaming thug, the last guard scrambled for his gun and failed when Jason plugged him in the chest with three shots in quick succession. A hard impact slapped the edge of the plates on his left forearm as a bullet grazed him. He rolled sideways without looking, getting within diving distance of a thick plywood crate. He slid into cover before a hailstorm of gunfire crisscrossed his location. Two more loud shots rang in quick succession, followed by the thump of corresponding bodies hitting the ground. Jason huffed labored breaths, feeling his energy dropping by startling margins the longer this went on.

He checked his ammo, verifying he was down to one spare mag and what was left in his gun. Then the stairwell to the right burst open and three figures emerged. The first was a shotgunner who pelted Jason's cover with repeated bursts of buckshot, wearing it down bit by bit. The second was a scarred, olive-skinned man in a black trenchcoat with a crew cut and dark eyes, who swaggered out into the open with an air of nonchalance. As if the utter chaos around him meant nothing. The third was a woman in a ballistic mask toting an RPG, who knelt behind the other gunmen suppressing the Hood.

Jason screamed into his earpiece, "Red!"

"I see it!"

Another sniper shot nailed the demolitionist in the mask, her body laying atop the resulting blood spatter as her weapon fell to the side. With a final twitch of her finger, the RPG went off and exploded against a nearby wall, disintegrating it and sending shrapnel of metal and wood spearing through most of the supporting squad. The man in the trenchcoat flicked a drop of blood off his face as the shotgunner took a moment to reload. Jason took the opportunity to pelt him with fire, emptying half the mag before he realized his target was wearing body armor. Then he sent two shots at his head, one grazing the side of his skull, the other nailing him in the lower forehead. The impact sent him reeling and screaming, clutching his head.

When Jason turned the weapon on the man in the trenchcoat, he felt his heart drop when a click answered him.

The man smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes as he opened his mouth. "Don't you just hate it when the damndest bad luck ruins the moment?" He reached into his coat. "Mine, on the other hand…"

The glint of steel was Jason's only warning before he was fired upon, diving for cover that wasn't already shredded and finding a wall of chalk and wood that splintered and spat shredded pieces as the gunman pelted it with pistol fire. Jason ejected the spent mag and loaded his last one as he heard the fire approach. Crawling away from the concentration of shots, Jason braced himself and snapped around the corner as their guns faced each other.

They fired simultaneously.

Two shots slammed Jason's torso, his body armor stopping them in their tracks and the anti-ballistic gel underneath mitigating most of the impact. He still _felt_ it. Jason's shots, on the other hand, sent puffs of dust flying from his target's chest but did little else. He rolled backward with the impact of the incoming fire, realigning his sight picture in an attempt to nail him in the head. Another two bullets hit him, this time in the shoulder and arm. The shoulder was a graze, the arm a solid hit that sent his aim completely off and his shot into the concrete. A click sounded from the advancing gunman's direction, and Jason's heart lurched in triumph as he tried to realign his weapon.

He didn't anticipate his enemy charging in knife-first.

The first swing knocked the gun from his hand, the second pinged off his helmet, and the third was blocked with his left gauntlet as he lunged away. Mister trenchcoat spun the karambit in his right hand, smiling malevolently as he advanced with confident steps. Jason reached for his sword but immediately decided against it when his enemy closed to arm's distance. The attacks came in rapid fire, the ping of metal on metal filling the air as Jason kept up a desperate defense with his bracers. He gasped when a shallow nick sprouted on his left arm when he misjudged the angle of attack, and screamed outright when a shin-kick slammed him in the ribs.

Jason lashed out with a right cross, his fist caught and used to pull him into a knee that sent his feet off the ground. A knife-hand to his attacker's grasping wrist freed his right hand, his left arm coming up to cover his face when the karambit came back in for another swing. His right hand dipped to his belt, a click sounding as a batarang sprang open in his grip. His right lunged in an upward stab, slapped aside with little effort and countered with a hook to the ribs with the same hand. Jason sent a push-kick at his opponent to give himself some room, but found his boot caught and used to expose him to a stab that nearly severed his femoral artery. Fortunately, his armor deflected the blade away from the weak point.

It didn't stop him from screaming in pain.

The karambit was whipped loose, sending searing pain shooting up his leg and nearly putting him on his knees. He stumbled backward, swinging his batarang to ward off his opponent. A cruel chuckle came his way before he was nailed in the hand with a roundhouse-kick, knocking the weapon from his grasp, then in the chest with a returning hook-kick. Jason lunged at him in desperation with a weight-driven top-down punch. His eyes widened and throat sputtered when white-hot pain took his breath away, his gaze drifting down from the cruel smile of his enemy to the curved knife buried in his gut to the hilt.

As the Knight collapsed to the ground in agony, the karambit was torn loose and wiped on the sleeve of its owner's trenchcoat. He gasped for breath, clutching the seeping hole in his gut with both hands and absently noting the relative lack of gunfire, and in particular the loud cracks of the Red Hood's rifle. The man in the trenchcoat stood over him, looking down on him arrogantly.

"Gotta admit," he drawled, "you lasted longer than most." He knelt at Jason's side. "Knight, wasn't it?"

Jason coughed wetly, blood staining his lips and the inside of his helmet.

He drew closer and narrowed his eyes in mock confusion. "I thought you were supposed to be _strong_. Guess I was wrong."

He raised the knife but stopped when another gunman approached him from behind.

"Mr. Diaz, I think we scared off his backup."

Jason's eyes widened as far as they could go, fear as cold as the howling wind creeping into his bones.

 _Diaz,_ he thought, the pieces quickly falling in place. _Ricardo Diaz, Jr., AKA—_

"Richard Dragon," Jason gasped.

Diaz's attention shifted from the man at his back to the prone hero at his feet. He smirked. "So you know me too. I'm glad." He rose to his feet, sheathed the knife, and reloaded his pistol. "Nothing worse than dying without knowing why."

He didn't say anything else before raising the gun to Jason's head.

He never noticed the bloodied finger that hit a control on the Knight's left gauntlet.

A deafening explosion sent the rooftop's remaining occupants flying or stumbling to the ground. Diaz only staggered a bit and looked back at the remains of his weapons stockpile, his jaw dropping in shock for a moment before it turned to rage. He turned that rage toward Jason, his voice growling to match.

"That was _not_ a smart move."

Jason released a ragged, pained chuckle. "But it was fun."

Richard Dragon's upper lip twitched with anger as he raised his pistol.

An ear-splitting crack rang out.

Blood spattered the concrete.

And the Dragon dove for cover as his now-headless underling slumped to the ground.

"Shit!"

Jason's heart leapt when the Red Hood's voice entered his ear.

"I had to relocate, and this damn graze is throwing my aim off. Kid, you gotta get up and outta there, _now_!"

The Knight's jaw clenched as he fought the agony threatening to take what remained of his reason.

"Get to the west side! I got you covered, but not for long— _move_!"

The urgency in his voice and Jason's own fear forced his fading limbs to move. A slow blink passed as he managed to get his feet under him. The next seconds passed in a blur of black spots and red haze, every step a fight, every breath a struggle. His right hand dipped to his belt on instinct, his left holding his injury as he half-limped half-ran toward the western edge of the rooftop. Gunfire at his back lent more urgency to his steps, his eyes flying open and staying open as he leapt off the side and fired his grapnel at the adjacent building. His body swung in a wide arc, his thumb activating the winch and sending him rocketing up the line mid-swing.

Panic struck him when he barely controlled his angle of swing and flew just past the corner of the building. His heart stopped when he felt the concrete his cable was anchored to give way and his line come loose at the peak of his swing, just above a lip on the side of the building. His left hand lashed out for it, trying to find purchase. He knew he was too far. He reached for it anyway, expecting to feel empty air.

His hand met Kevlar gloves and an iron-hard grip instead.

His eyes snapped up as his body hung limply, the staccato of automatic gunfire in the distance answered by the Red Hood's pistol fire as he curled the Knight's entire body weight with one arm. The pistol returned to its holster as he pulled the injured boy the rest of the way up and half-carried him across the narrow walkway away from the fighting. The following minutes passed in a dark blur of motion that sent Jason's stomach twisting and turning until they finally settled. Steady hands patted him down and lens-covered eyes examined his injuries.

"Shit," Red hissed. "You're bleeding internally. I gotta plug this hole."

He answered with a drowsy grunt.

"It's gonna suck."

"Eh, that's nothin' new," Jason drawled, delirious from blood loss.

His eyes sharpened when he heard a spark and hiss and looked to see a lit flare in the other man's hand. He blinked twice in disbelief before meeting Jay's eyes through the helmet.

"Now let's think about this for a mi—"

Without warning or ceremony, the Hood pushed the lit end of the flare into Jason's injury, the initial pain of the wound _nothing_ compared to the agony he felt as his torn flesh was cauterized. The blood rushed from his head so fast he lost vision and hearing long enough not to hear his own scream. Miraculously, he didn't pass out from the pain, and when he was slightly more coherent, he could hear Jay's voice ordering him to wake up. Jace blinked and shook his head, slowly making out Jay's words.

"You need a doctor, kid, and Thompkins answers _your_ calls, not mine."

He blinked slowly, shaky hands dipping to his belt to pull out his PDA. A few keystrokes later and his emergency beacon went live, the only means of locating him that couldn't be remotely activated from the Batcave.

"D-Dad is on his way," Jace gasped.

The Hood nodded stiffly and slowly rose to his feet. "Then my work is done." He hesitated before taking a tentative step away.

Suddenly, Jace felt his eyes begin to drift closed and felt panic seize him when he shook himself back to consciousness. "Wait—stay—please?"

Jay hesitated again, taking a moment to look him over, then sighing as he sat down next to him. "Fine. Just until he gets close."

Jace nodded stiffly and pulled his helmet off, absently noting that they were sitting on the same rooftop where they'd run into each other. Remembering something he'd forgotten in his haze of pain and desperation, he reached to his belt and retrieved Red's borrowed gun, lifting it into his line of sight. He stared at the weapon before cautiously taking it back, taking care to keep it angled away from his head. Then his vision turned to Jace and fixed him with a piercing stare.

"Where the _hell_ did you learn to fight like that?" he grated.

Jace gave him a sideways look.

He huffed. "Not hand-to-hand, _that_ one's obvious." He hefted the pistol. "I meant with _this_ , 'cause I know Bruce sure as hell didn't teach you."

The boy smiled and shook his head slightly, even that small action making him lightheaded. "No." He met the lenses of the red mask. " _You_ did."

The Hood had no reply.

Jace coughed clotted blood out of his throat and stared into the distance. "When I decided I needed to go back and fix things…I knew I'd need help. Mom and Dad…they never trained me to kill. And Dami…" his eyes darkened, "Dami couldn't be trusted. The only other person I could think of willing to cross the lines I'd need to cross…" his gaze shifted back to Jay, "was you." He gulped hard, willing his voice to work. "So you taught me everything you know." A shrug. "Everything that could be learned in the course of a year, anyway."

Jay was silent a long while as he processed that information. "So we knew each other pretty well where you come from."

A smile tugged at his lips, his eyes staring into infinity. "Like brothers." Jace felt himself drifting away again and forced himself to remain conscious. "Jay…don't be a stranger."

"What?" he asked, confusion lacing his distorted voice.

"Dad…he wants to trust you." He looked up at his would-be mentor, the red mask giving nothing away. "He just doesn't know if he can." He reached up with his left hand and weakly gripped Jay's arm. "You're part of the family…whether you like it or not."

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the hum of the AC units, and later the roar of a familiar engine.

"That's my cue," the Hood grated as he stood. He took a few steps before stopping to look at Jace over his shoulder. "Get some rest, kid."

He shook his head with a half-delirious smile. "Jace."

Jay stared.

"You always called me Jace."

He waited another second or two before nodding silently and grappling up to another roof mere seconds before Jace felt a shadow fall over him. When he looked up, it wasn't who he expected, and he would've let out a groan if he didn't know how much it would hurt.

"Ugh, did it _have_ to be you?"

"Yes, idiot," Robin hissed as he hoisted his younger brother to his feet. "That's what you get when you run off alone."

They said nothing more as Batman joined them and helped Robin get him to ground level. A minute later, Jason was packed in the back with Damian, who had his mask off and was examining his brother's injuries.

"I'm _fine_ ," he griped, annoyed at how much pain the prodding caused.

"Shut the hell up," Damian growled, meeting his eyes with furious green. "You don't get a say in that now, not after whatever nonsense you just pulled."

From the front, Batman tilted his head but said nothing.

"Now listen and listen well," Dami continued, getting right up in Jason's face. "I can't pretend to know what you're feeling or why you're feeling it, but getting yourself killed to prove a point is not the answer."

"That's not—"

Damian's answering glare shut him up. "I don't care. Your behavior today—all week—has been uncouth and uncalled for. I've done as Pennyworth asked and tried to understand your point of view." His furious eyes narrowed. "Now understand mine. If you _ever_ pull a stunt like this again, I will drug, shackle, and hog-tie you to your own bed for a _month_." A malevolent smile took over his face. "And then read the Journal of Psychology to you _ad nauseum_ during your waking hours."

Jason's wide eyes indicated he got the message, and he shut up for the rest of the trip to Dr. Thompkins' clinic.

…

When Diana returned from monitor duty on the Watchtower, it was to a flood of unanswered texts and voicemails from Bruce. The moment she saw the first ones, fear gripped her by the heart. The further down she went, the more panicked she became, until she called him and found out Jason was just getting out of his second surgery within the space of a month. She showed up at his door in the middle of a conversation between Bruce and their son, having passed a silent, stone-faced Damian in the hall.

"Jason?" she asked, knocking on the doorframe.

He looked _terrible_. Far paler than he should've been and covered in bruises—at least what she could see of him. And the look on his face was…fragile at best. A thousand emotions ran across his face as his mouth opened and closed without a sound. The first words out of his mouth were about what she'd expected.

"I'm sorry."

It was barely a whisper—and a broken, ragged whisper at that—but her ever-sensitive ears picked it up.

"I lashed out at the last person I'd ever want to hurt. And…" he flinched, "I made all of you worry."

She turned her eyes to Bruce's stern expression for a moment, fully exposed by the cowl he'd left on the bedside table, before returning her focus to Jason. Her lips pursed with her answer. "Yes. You did. And that's unacceptable."

Jason frowned but nodded.

Diana's tone was firm yet soft as she sat at his bedside. "I made you a promise, Jason, and I _will_ keep it." Her eyes searched his for a few heartbeats as she let her words sink in. "But as we now know, it may take some time."

"Which you will have _plenty_ of," Bruce added, arms crossed. "I think it goes without saying, but you're grounded for the next two weeks." He huffed. "It'll take at least _one_ just for you to recover enough to move." His gaze softened slightly when Diana gave him a small nod. "After that, if you _behave_ , we can talk about getting you back in the field. But this?" He motioned to Jason's crippled form. "This can _never_ happen again, understand?"

He gulped and nodded, eyes slipping shut with exhaustion and painkillers.

"Jason," Diana said softly, gently gripping his hand when his eyes snapped open. "Son…"

His eyes widened slightly, lips parting.

She took a deep breath, heart thudding hard against her rib cage. "I love you."

The words rolled off her tongue like water. Strange, barely a month since they'd first met, and it didn't surprise her how _right_ it felt to say.

" _We_ love you," Bruce added gently, a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever comes next, we'll figure it out." His voice went firm in emphasis. " _Together_."

Jason met his gaze, looking between them as his features trembled haphazardly and eyes flickered with everything from love to panic. Finally, he gulped hard and opened his mouth, his voice a small, scared whisper. "Okay."

Diana leaned in as she watched him fall apart, gingerly holding his head and stroking his hair as he shook with violent weeping, every erg of grief and pain he'd hidden upon his return from Themyscira pouring out unfiltered. Bruce knelt on his other side and squeezed his hand in assurance, an ever-unshakable rock in his emotional storm. And at the edge of her vision, just outside the door, she glimpsed a dark-haired figure half-hidden by the frame, silently supporting his brother from afar.

Her gaze turned toward him, just enough of him visible to meet his eyes as she mouthed, "Thank you."

Damian blinked, nodding in reply as his lips twitched with just the faintest hint of a smile.

* * *

AN: Yay! Another one for you. Ugh, this was such a pain to get through. Literally, this was physically painful. Might not be able to write much for a day or two so my wrists and fingers can recover.

Which is a shame because the next chapter is going to be _hilariously_ fun to write. How _does_ Jason intend on spending his grounding? Well, accompanying his father on a business trip to Metropolis, for one. Take that as you will.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Daredevil (Season 2) - The Punisher: start-1:06—setting the bombs/stacking up/smoke bomb, 1:06-2:56—shootout/RPG/crossfire with Richard Dragon, 2:56-3:18—knife-fight/gut stab, 3:18-3:42—verbal exchange/explosion/saving headshot, 3:42-end—Red's cover fire/grapple jump/midair catch


	10. Kara

Truthfully, Jason didn't mind being grounded so much.

For the first time since he'd arrived in the past, he didn't feel the need to rush. Perhaps that was due to the spectacular beatdown he'd received from Richard Dragon, or the fact that he could no longer afford to rush into things, relying on his powers to make up the difference _when_ he made a mistake. He'd also fallen behind on his studies owing to the increase in sleepy time necessary to recover from being quite literally gutted. The flipside was plenty of Alfred's cooking and not having to listen to the constant droning of his teachers. And periodic visits from the few school friends he had made.

Lindsey Markan was one of them.

He'd kept tabs on her via the Batcomputer since the conclusion of his first case. She'd taken his advice, checked herself into rehab along with her parents, and though the records he accessed showed the parents had struggled, they were finally clean. With Bruce's help, he set up a package that helped them finally get out of Park Row in a combination of reeducation and references. Not to mention an invite to live in a personal project of Lucius Fox in the midtown region of Gotham until they could get on their feet. Lindsey still stayed with the Tellers, but a visit to her birth parents was as easy as asking.

And she did. Frequently. After everything she endured to spring them from their enslavement to addiction, she wasn't about to leave them to start their new life alone. But Lindsey could only be strong for them so long before she needed a little strength of her own, so naturally, Jason approached her with Stephanie providing introduction and made a point of getting close. It helped that he had previously studied her coursework and could help whenever she was stuck. Given that he was already at the college level, it hardly added any stress to his workload.

"So this derivative results in…" Lindsey struggled for a moment before looking to Jason with a helpless gaze.

He chuckled and pointed at something further up the page.

Realization flashed in her eyes. " _Oh_!" Her pencil scribbled, and she looked to him for confirmation.

He shrugged and smiled. "Not sure why you even _need_ me for this."

Lindsey snorted and gave him a sideways look. "Because you're a genius and I need to keep my grades up."

Jason's eyes rolled as he reached sideways to open his fifth pudding cup of the day. For some reason, his appetite was the one thing that hadn't diminished with his physical strength. "Your grades are fine and you're plenty brilliant, Lin. I just had a head start." He grinned, his two front teeth coated in chocolate pudding. "And _great_ genetics."

She groaned. " _Please_ don't remind me. Your parents are so stupidly attractive and it's so not fair." A faint blush coated her cheeks. "It is weird that I have a crush on your dad?"

Far from being put off, Jason grinned and shook his head. "Pretty sure every teenage girl in _Gotham_ has a crush on my dad."

Lindsey frowned crookedly.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he laughed as he took down notes of his own. "Before Mom and Dad finally got together, most of Gotham's eligible women took a shot at him…and a few _in_ eligible ones."

"Ugh, last thing I want to do is be lumped in with a pack of half-plastic socialites."

Jason snorted and muttered, "They weren't _all_ socialites," his mind immediately flashing to a certain black-haired thief.

She heard, but said nothing, finishing up her assignment and stowing it. "Thanks for the help, Jace. See you at school? Or are you still on bed rest?"

Jason frowned. "Couple more days I'm supposed to take it easy, but I should be back on Monday."

"Gotcha." Lindsey smiled and slung her backpack over her shoulders. "See ya then."

He nodded and waved. "See you."

She waved back as Alfred ushered her out the door of the manor to the Tellers' car in the driveway. He heard them drive off as his eyes scanned across the page of his textbook, marking something down before leaning back and sighing. The cover story was that he'd been involved in an accident involving a semi hauling steel poles to a construction site and one had impaled him. In truth, it was only because his armor shunted the Dragon's knife to the side that he narrowly avoided losing a kidney.

Once he'd calmed down after surgery and been a little more coherent, Bruce asked him how he got into that mess in the first place. He explained as best he could, but was particularly tight-lipped about making his alliance with the Red Hood known. Jason suspected Bruce had already figured it out, or was only a small hop and skip away from guessing as much. Still, he wasn't about to give them another reason to mistrust his namesake. After all, Jace had gone to _him_.

Alfred entering the study pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Afternoon, Alfred."

The older man's lips bore the hint of a smirk, his tone giving little away as he set down a mug of coffee on Jason's side table. "Ms. Markan has been visiting quite frequently, hasn't she?"

He detected a hint of mischief in the question. "Yes." Jason arched an eyebrow at Alfred's bustling form. "Something to say, Alfred?"

"Not at all, sir. Happy to see you making friends."

Jason gave the butler a sideways look as he lifted coffee to his lips. "Don't see you telling _Damian_ that."

Alfred smiled cheekily. "I might if he would make some."

He nearly spat his coffee across the room, coughing hard as Alfred swept a bit of dust with a smile.

"I _heard_ that," came Damian's voice from the door as he strode in and beelined for one of the bookcases.

"Heard what?" Jason asked coyly.

He could _hear_ Damian's eye-roll. "Father wants to see you in his office."

Jason sighed and set his coffee down. "You know what for?"

"No."

Glancing at Damian, Jason shook his head and cleared his throat as he rose to his feet, wincing at the dull pain in his gut. Alfred noticed.

"Are you taking your painkillers, sir?"

Jason sighed. "Yes, Alfred."

He made his way upstairs and knocked on Bruce's door, receiving a call to enter a second later.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

Bruce smiled a little and nodded. "Grab your suit. We have a flight to catch."

Jason blinked hard. " _Huh_?"

…

A little under two hours later, Jason was sitting in a rolling office chair with a central shaft that squeaked every time he turned. And he was turning a _lot_. Reason? Boring, _boring_ owner's briefing at the Daily Planet. Jason had finished all his homework on the flight over and the online story he'd been reading for the last week. As much as he loved the Elder Scrolls, the author had left it at an uncomfortable cliffhanger at the end of chapter 17 and said the next chapter wouldn't be posted until tomorrow. Demoralized and bored out of his skull, Jason tried to listen to the drone of the editor currently conversing with his father.

He tuned it out a split-second later in favor of a frame on the wall.

"Superman v. President Luthor," read the headline of the paper in the frame, a black-and-white still of the two going toe-to-toe, man vs armored mech. The by-line twitched his lips with a smile as he glanced over to a nearby window to see the author chewing on a pencil out in the bullpen. In the cubicle just opposite her, a large man with glasses strode over with a smile, lowering a steaming mug to her desk. She smiled at him, briefly distracted from what she'd been reading, and leaned up to peck him on the lips. Jason looked away, clearing his throat softly as he twirled a pen between his fingers.

The endless drone of discourse between Bruce and editor Perry White drew Jason's attention briefly before he heard the words "financial correlation" and immediately tuned them out. The scratching of a pencil on the opposite side of the conference table drew his attention to a glasses-wearing blonde who was biting her lower lip mid-scribble. Jason's lips pursed as he tossed an idea around in his head for a second before crumpling a paper sitting on the table and tossing it at her head. Clara stopped what she was doing, slowly dragging her eyes to meet his cheeky grin across the table.

"' _Sup_?" he whispered.

" _Taking notes_ ," Clara mouthed, knowing he could read her lips. " _I'm Kal's PA and he assigned me to shadow your dad for the day_."

" _Hm_." He glanced at the two men currently discoursing at the far end of the table. " _You bored too_?"

Her lips pursed tightly. " _Being a PA isn't the most exciting job, but it's a living_." Her eyes rolled. " _Or so I'm told_."

Jason's eyebrows hiked upward. " _They're not even paying you_?"

" _People don't get PAs unless they're already highly paid. Kal…isn't exactly making bank off his job, so…I get to be the unpaid intern_." She smirked. " _But at least I get to live with him rent-free_." The smile faded quickly, replaced by an embarrassed frown. " _Though, that certainly doesn't help when I have to sleep at night_." Her cheeks colored even darker. " _At least not when_ they _don't sleep_."

Jason blinked in confusion for a split-second before her meaning clicked and he coughed hard in an attempt to cover his own embarrassment. " _Fair enough_." He glanced at the animated discussion between Bruce and Perry when something occurred to him and he was forced to hide a devious grin. " _That gives me an idea…_ "

Clara gave him a suspicious look. " _What are you up to_?"

He reached out to a pitcher of water in the center of the table and poured two equal glasses. " _I have a plan to get us out of here for a bit. What do you say_?"

Her eyes narrowed, more suspicious than ever. " _Why do I feel like this has a catch_?"

He grinned. " _Whoever empties their glass last has to buy the other a milkshake_."

She rolled her eyes. " _And there it is_."

" _What's wrong, scared_?"

The corners of her lips rose with her visible pride. " _Oh, you're on_."

Jason slowly slid one glass to her side of the table, smirking like he knew something she didn't. Which he did.

Many, many things.

He raised three fingers as a visible count, mirrored by her. They began the countdown with one hand, the other clutching their glass. The instant the last finger fell, Clara tipped her glass down her throat. Jason tipped his glass into an empty one, filling it at the speed of gravity and beating her to the punch by a half-second. She gaped at him in disbelief as he leaned back and grinned smugly. Jason took a deep breath and waited for a brief pause in the meeting's dialogue before clearing his throat pointedly. It got their attention, and Bruce gave him a quizzical look while Perry's eyebrows twitched with a hint of exasperation.

"'Scuse me," Jason said with a smile, "but I was wondering if I might be excused for a…short break." He put on his best "rich kid heir" voice. "I find myself in need of refreshment, and while acceptable, the coffee here is not quite what I'm craving."

Bruce blinked. "Of course."

He cleared his throat again, a devious smirk tugging at his lips. "And might I take this young lady with me?" He pointed straight at a wide-eyed Clara. "This is my first time visiting the Planet, so who better to show me around than someone who works here every day?"

Perry glanced between her wide eyes and Jason's insistent expression, his lips pursing tightly as he internally debated the pros and cons of ceding to the heir's demands. "Ask Clara's cousin out in the bullpen. He loaned her out to you."

"Sure," Jason replied, turning to Clara. "Come along then."

Clara's blue eyes narrowed at his demanding, aristocratic tone.

He grinned as they strode out of the editor's office to approach Lois and Clark's mirrored desks. "Excuse me, Mr. Kent?"

Clark looked up from his laptop, a curious expression on his face though he'd undoubtedly heard everything that had transpired. "Oh, Mr. Wayne." He rose and stretched out his hand. "Good to see you again. How've you been since the wedding?"

Jason blinked and suppressed a frown, forcing himself to smile. "Good days, bad days." He shrugged, a hint of sadness in his smile. "You know how it is."

Clark smiled understandingly. "I do." He glanced at Clara. "So, you two are going out for a bit?"

Jason could feel Lois' eyes on the side of his head. "She lost a bet and is taking me for milkshakes."

"Wait," Clara interrupted, "shakes, as in plural?"

He smirked. "We'll see."

She pouted.

Clark was trying his hardest to restrain a grin. "Well, have fun you two. And don't do anything _I_ wouldn't do."

Lois snorted and rolled her eyes. "If they stuck to _that_ boundary all the time, Smallville, they'd never have any fun at all."

He shot her an affronted look. "I beg your pardon?"

She smirked and returned her attention to her computer, typing away feverishly.

Clark cleared his throat and turned back to Clara and Jason. "Anyway, see you in a bit."

"See you," Clara muttered, crossing her arms as Jason led her to the elevator.

…

"This is my favorite spot in the city for milkshakes."

Jason looked around the quaint retro-style diner with a warm smile. He hoped she couldn't see the flashes of nostalgia in his eyes as he shrugged and smiled wider. "It's homey. Very welcoming."

Clara chuckled and waved him over to a booth next to a window. "Well, it helps when the city's architecture doesn't make it look like a gothic dystopia."

Jason waved a finger at her. "That's a good point."

They sat with a small sigh and waited for an exuberant hostess to hand them their menus with a thick Deep Southern accent.

"Y'all let me know when you're ready to order."

"We are, actually," Jason replied with barely a glance at the menu. "We'd like a strawberry banana milkshake, largest you got, with _all_ the whipped cream and fudge."

The strawberry blonde hostess grinned as she took down his order. "You gotcha." She turned to Clara. "And you hon?"

She opened her mouth, glancing at Jason uncertainly before taking a breath.

He smirked. "She'll be sharing mine."

Clara stared at him blankly.

Jason flashed the hostess his best Wayne grin. "I _did_ say _we_."

The lady giggled and winked at him. "So ya did." She folded the notebook up and patted her apron. "Be right back with that soon as I can. Y'all have fun."

"Thank you," he called, smiling into the distance.

"Okay, what is happening right now?"

Clara's question caught his attention, and he turned to her with a smile. "You're buying me a milkshake, which I am choosing to share with you." He frowned. "Or do you not enjoy strawberry banana?"

She opened her mouth for a second, apparently deciding against her first response before answering, "Actually, that's…my favorite. With the whipped cream and everything."

Jason's eyebrows hiked upward as he smiled. "Well how about that?" He shrugged. "Who knew?"

He leaned back in his seat, staring out the window at the "City of Tomorrow" gleaming in the fading sun. His smile slowly faded to a neutral line as he fell into deep thought. Dragging him all the way to Metropolis for an hour-long business meeting at the tail end of his grounding would've seemed odd were it not for the fact that he'd gradually been driving everyone (himself included) insane due to his inaction and hankering for some time out of the house. This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but given his current company—who was staring at him suspiciously and biting her lower lip in a gesture that was _unquestionably_ adorable—he wasn't about to complain.

"Kal, for one," Kara answered at length. "He introduced me to this place," she added, waving at their surroundings.

Jason nodded slowly, barely taking his eyes off the skyline. When he did, it was only when she was also distracted by the sunlight glinting off the buildings. His eyes drifted to her profile, glasses sitting gingerly on her nose and chin perched on her hand as she stared out the window, pink lips pouting a bit.

"Beautiful," he whispered unthinkingly. He quickly cleared his throat and shifted his gaze out the window when she turned to him, feeling his cheeks burn. He nodded toward the skyline. "Shame I don't get to see it more often."

She stared at his profile for a second before nodding. "Kinda reminds me of Krypton when I look at it in this lighting. The way it just…" she splayed her fingers out like a starburst, " _glows_."

"Hm." He was silent a while, only disrupting the silence when the waitress returned with a gigantic liter of sugary goodness. Jason slapped on a blinding Wayne smile. "Thank you very much."

"My pleasure," she returned with a grin and small courtsey.

Jason chuckled and saluted her with his straw-spoon—spoon-straw? Stroon? Yes, it was a stroon now.

"You gonna dig in or am I gonna have to eat this all by my lonesome?" Jason asked an absentminded Kara.

She blinked and huffed, grabbing the other stroon (he wasn't going to call them anything else now…at least in the confines of his own head) and taking her first scoop. Her ice-blue eyes slid shut as she groaned in hearty approval. It made him chuckle.

"Never gets old," she muttered around a mouthful.

He grinned around his stroon and stuck it deep in the shake, sucking in almost enough to get brain-freeze.

"How are you doing?"

Jason blinked at the question.

Kara frowned. "Without your powers, I mean."

His jovial mood quickly faded, but he didn't feel the need to shut down quite like he had before. Staring out the window, he considered his answer for a long minute. "I didn't take it well."

She snorted. "I remember. You practically bit Diana's mom's head off."

His head shook slowly. "It's worse than you know."

"Seriously? How much worse?"

Jason frowned and looked around the diner to make sure no one was watching before he scooted back in his seat and lifted his shirt just enough to show the gnarly scar from his misadventure with Red.

Kara held back a wince at the sight. "That wasn't…self-inflicted, was it?"

He gave her an incredulous look before looking up for a moment in thought. A sigh passed his lips. "You know, in retrospect…it might've been." He shrugged. "Indirectly."

"Okay?" she asked uncertainly.

His lips pursed as he stirred the shake. "I picked a fight with someone way out of my league."

"On purpose?"

"Well, no. Not at first." He frowned and shook his head. "But I still went looking for trouble against my parents' advice."

Kara hummed. "I know what that's like."

"Yeah?"

She blinked slowly, lips pressed into a thin line as she lowered her voice and gulped down more of their shake. "When I first became Supergirl, Kal put me in charge of Metropolis while he went on an away mission in deep space. I…overstepped a bit—a _lot_ —while he was away. Started policing the whole world."

Jason frowned in confusion, leaning on his elbows. "But…isn't that what _he_ does?"

"Yeah. And that's what inspired me to take the extra step, but…the reason he left, the mission…I was using all that conflict to distract myself from the fact that he left me out of what I felt was my fight. It took Lois sitting me down to finally get my head screwed on straight."

He huffed. "At least you established yourself in the process. Only thing _I_ managed to do was blow up some guns and get shanked."

Kara frowned at him but said nothing, opting to drink more of the shake. He joined her a second later, both silently mulling over their conversation and realizing half a minute in how close their heads were when they glanced up to meet each other's eyes. Jason felt heat rise in his cheeks as he saw the same in hers, but felt himself grin around the stroon before his cheeks went hollow with how hard he was sucking. She caught on quick, and it soon became a race to the bottom, one _she_ won despite his head start thanks to her never needing to breathe. No wonder she'd been so confident of her success with the water.

Jason pouted in good humor as she cackled at his defeat, silently cursing her Kryptonian physiology.

"Why have I never seen this side of you?" she asked mid-laugh.

He stared at her. "Maybe because we've met a total of three times. Today included."

She shrugged. "That's fair. Still," she dragged the end of her stroon through the dregs in the glass, "both times we met, you were tense as a high wire." A snort. "Though I could certainly understand the second time."

"Yeah."

"…have you heard anything from her?"

"Hippolyta?"

"Yeah."

"No, and I'd prefer to keep it that way." He sighed and leaned back on his hands. "Mom pretty much cut her off after she found out what happened to me. Though I have little doubt they'll reconnect eventually. It's not in her nature to hold a grudge, especially not against family."

"But still, the line she crossed…"

"Could've been worse." He smiled morbidly. "She could've let me die in that blood duel."

Kara's eyes darkened. " _That_ I know for a fact she would never have forgiven."

"Yeah," he exhaled, redirecting his attention to the skyline.

There was a strange, tense feeling in his gut, despite the ease and flow of the conversation. He felt nothing but warmth from her side of the table, yet something prevented him from fully letting his own out as his eyes drifted shut.

…

 _The fading sun cast a warm red glow over the park, his eyes darting to and fro to take it all in. They stopped when they saw her, sitting on the grass and staring into the distance at nothing in particular, a blank look on her face. She turned when he tapped her shoulder, blinking twice as he lifted a small sunflower into her view, its short stem gripped gingerly between his fingers. She smiled at him, warm as the sun that illuminated half of her face, but behind those glasses, her eyes were cool and heavy with sadness. His lips pursed as he raised the flower with one hand and with the other tucked her blonde hair behind her left ear._

 _She blinked, a little startled at the sudden touch, and sighed with heartbreaking joy as he tucked the stem of the flower into the crook of her ear._

" _Thank you, Jace. It's beautiful."_

 _She pulled him into her arms, his smaller form easily fitting in her lap as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. He blushed and hugged her as tightly as his little arms could, her body soft yet without even a bit of give. She held him back, fingers tousling his messy black hair as he listened to the strong beat of her heart. He didn't realize how heavy his eyelids were until they began to sag closed, the steady legato of her heart lulling him into an easy nap._

…

"Well, I held up my end."

Kara's voice brought his attention back to her as she laid down the cost and tip next to the receipt.

"Yeah, you did," he replied, taking mental note of the amount. "Shall we?" He motioned to the door.

She nodded and stood up, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she followed him out. Jason paused just outside the diner, lost in his thoughts. A distant part of his mind was aware they should be heading back to the Daily Planet, but his conscious thoughts kept drifting to his memories. So absentminded was he that he failed to notice the strange, pensive look she was giving him until she opened her mouth.

"Do we have to head back right away?"

Jason blinked and turned to her. "I guess not, no." He smirked. "Clark did assign you to us, after all."

Kara smiled and crossed her arms. "And you took full advantage of that."

"Naturally," he replied with a grin.

Her smile faded as she bit her lower lip. "I'd like to show you something, if you'd let me."

His eyebrows rose. "Oh? What's that?"

Her head shook as she took his hand. "Better if I show you."

Jason blinked at the unexpected contact, feeling heat creep up his cheeks before shrugging. "Why not? Lead the way."

Kara smiled and tugged him along, taking them to a deserted alley filled with smog and exhaust from a manhole cover halfway through. Glancing around to make sure they were unobserved, she held him by the hips and lifted him just enough to put his feet on her flats. Jason's eyes widened comically as the ground grew further and further away, the buildings shrinking in the distance. The further they rose, the faster his breathing became, despite the fact that this wasn't the first time she'd carried him mid-flight. To be fair, he'd been more than a little distracted last time.

This time around, he had nothing else occupying his mind except the stark grandeur of the shining city—and the gaping distance between him and the ground.

"You're okay, Jace."

He blinked hard and met her eyes, startled at the familiar nickname uttered in her voice.

Kara's earnest eyes were complimented by a faint, reassuring smile. "I won't let you fall, promise."

Jason stared at her for a few breaths before smiling back. "I know."

He turned his gaze on the rest of the city, taking it all in in an airborne panorama. The gold of the Planet's rotating globe drew closer as they slowly twirled around each other. He barely noticed when they touched down on the roof just below the globe, on the west side of the building. Kara nodded behind Jason when she noticed the blank look on his face. He turned his head and felt his jaw drop at the sight of the fading sun, already half-sunken behind the horizon. Jason huffed a small sigh, stepping off her toes to face the vista fully. He didn't notice the arm he still had around her shoulders, or she around his waist, until he looked down at her after his initial awe faded away.

"What was all this about?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Kara smiled cheekily, staring off into the distance. "You mean to tell me you've never done a flyby of Gotham for the hell of it?"

He chuckled. "Of course I have. There's something…almost hypnotic about seeing a city from the air. Especially at night," he nodded at the setting sun, "or like this."

She waved at the horizon. "Well, I wanted you to have something to let you feel…a little closer to what you lost. As…a pleasant reminder to keep close, at least until you get your powers back."

Jason blinked, lips pursed. "You think I will?"

"Oh please," she snorted. "You Waynes are _way_ too stubborn to let something like this lie forever."

"Fair enough," he chuckled.

Her smile faded slowly, eyes fixed on the sun. "That story, about when Kal went off-world…" she looked down, "that was the most helpless I'd felt since fleeing Krypton." Her gaze drifted up to meet his. "I know what you're going through, and I'd have done _anything_ to feel more in control." She smiled warmly. "You're not alone."

Jason stared at her, the image of sunlight on the side of her face bringing back powerful memories—especially when he saw that same sad look in her eyes. He blinked back unshed tears and nodded with a small smile. "I know."

He hugged her briefly before releasing her and turning back to the sunset. When she did the same, he glanced her way to verify that she was suitably distracted before reaching into his pocket and covertly slipping the exact amount she paid for the shake into her purse. He was so distracted maintaining his nonchalant appearance that he never noticed her smile widen ever so slightly.

…

"Are you sure?"

The question was met with a firm look from Bruce.

Clark threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, dumb question." He paused a moment in thought. "Do you think it broke him?"

Bruce frowned. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Since that night, he hasn't expressed even the slightest urge to go back out in the field, and that both worries and relieves me."

Clark let out a long, hissing breath, glancing over at Lois, who was trying and failing not to look like she was eavesdropping on them. "Can't say we've ever had that problem with Jon. If anything, he's always raring to go out _more_. But from my own experience—and yours—I know he needs someone to help him reestablish his confidence."

"We've been trying," Bruce said, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Damian's even stepped up to the task. For the most part, he just smiles politely and focuses on his studies. If it's his _decision_ to stay out of the field, that's one thing, and I'll respect it. But aside from the fact that he's grounded, I think his hesitation doesn't come from choice, but fear."

"Question is, fear of what? Not danger. Even _without_ his powers, he still went looking for trouble, and from what you've told me, handled himself pretty well all things considered."

Bruce frowned deeply, falling into his old brooding pose, hands in his pockets. "I don't know, and that worries me."

Lois smirked and pitched her two cents. "You could always have Di wrangle it out of him."

He shot her a scalding (yet ineffective) look. "She did that exactly once, and that was before we knew who he was. We have no intention of there being a repeat incident." His head shook slowly. "I'm not even sure he could tell us if we did; I don't think even _he_ knows."

Clark smiled comfortingly, adjusting his glasses. "He'll come to you when he's ready."

"He didn't at the wedding, or when he went off the grid."

"Well, here's hoping he's slightly less stubborn than you," Clark teased with a grin. "And a faster learner."

Bruce glowered at him (again, ineffective) before looking around. "Where did they get off to?"

"Oh, they're close."

He looked at Clark, not liking his strange, contemplative tone—or the direction of his gaze. Specifically, straight at the ceiling above them. He _knew_ that look from years of working with Superman—the x-ray face was unmistakable.

"What is your cousin doing on the roof with my son?"

Clark shrugged. "Just talking, by the looks of it." He looked back down to give his best farmboy grin. "Unlike _some_ people, I don't need to eavesdrop on everyone to feel secure."

Bruce glared again, noting the side-eyes Lois gave her husband at the subtle poke.

A few minutes later, the elevator dinged, and Clara and Jason stepped off in step with each other. Jason's hands were stuffed in his suit pockets, a small smile on his lips as Clara explained something to him. He released a small chuckle when they neared Lois and Clark's desks, nodding to Bruce.

"'Sup, Dad? How was the meeting?"

"Enlightening," Bruce replied after a second.

"Hm, boring as usual then."

He barely restrained an eye-roll while Clara giggled softly. Bruce glanced between them, eyes narrowing suspiciously at their close proximity. From the side, he could feel the slightest bit of tension in Clark, and when he looked over, there was an inquisitive look on his face directed at the pair. Lois, on the other hand, had an all-too-familiar smirk that set Bruce's teeth on edge. His eyes narrowed.

 _What is that conniving little shrew planning?_

As if he could read Bruce's thoughts, Clark sighed and shook his head slowly, mouthing, "I don't want to know."

Bruce's lips pursed tightly, glancing at the now-bickering Jason and Clara. He made a mental note to talk to Diana about this…new development as soon as they got home.

…

"Well, this is it, I guess." Jason turned to face Kara, who had an enigmatic smile on her face. "What?"

Her smile widened near-imperceptibly. "What was that bet all about?"

He blinked.

"Making me pay for a gigantic shake for two…was it just an excuse to get out of the meeting?" She smirked, reaching into her purse to conspicuously pull out a familiar stack of bills. "Because it wasn't for a free shake."

Jason blinked again, shrugging as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Pretty much." He grinned teasingly. "Besides, what kind of gentleman would I be if I made the lady pay?"

Kara stared at him, eyes narrowing behind her glasses as the Waynes' limo pulled up to the curb. "Wait…was this…was this a _date_?"

Jason took a long breath to steady himself, glancing at his nails with a disinterested air. After a moment to regain his composure, he grinned at Kara and dialed the old Wayne charm up to eleven. "Only if you want it to be," he replied with a wink.

She gaped at him, shaking her head slowly in disbelief that served to mask the smile she was fighting to hide. Jason turned to the open door, thanking Alfred before stepping into the car. He was so distracted by the incessant thumping of his heart and the giddy feeling of accomplishment he felt that he took his eyes off Kara and missed the way her form blurred for a split-second—and the sudden breeze that floated into the car. Alfred shut the door a second later, and they sped away, Jason giving the smiling girl a passing wave. It was ten minutes later, as they pulled onto their private runway, before he heard a rustle from his suit pocket.

His hand dipped in to find an unfamiliar piece of paper folded up so neatly it could've been machined that way. He knew better. His lips pursed as he unfolded it, eyes widening when he read what was scribbled.

 _"You're not the only one with fast hands – K"_

Below the message were ten digits separated by dashes, which he blinked at twice.

Despite the look he got from Bruce—and Alfred through the rearview mirror—Jason couldn't possibly restrain the hysterically giddy laughter that exploded from his throat.

…

[Jaaaaaace]

[What?]

[Jon is being a twit]

[XD What'd he do this time?]

[I might have, just maaaaybe started a prank war…]

[* _Jason is typing…_ *]

[By sticking hay in his bed]

[* _Jason is typ—erasing—typing…*_ ]

[And dunking his head in the cow trough]

[…I worry about you sometimes.]

[XDD]

[And you say HE'S being the twit?]

[Well his retaliation was…a bit disproportional]

[Meaning?]

[He rigged the stable muck on a spring trap when I went to clean them out and…well, let's just say it was explosive]

[Ohhhh…good for him.]

[Traitor!]

[;-P]

…

Kara felt a buzzing on her wrist and glanced around from her backup position on the perimeter of an annoyingly protracted fight with the Secret Society. After confirming she was clear for the moment, she pulled out her phone. A picture came up of a model volcano mid-explosion, showering an irate Damian, a laughing Lindsey, and a shocked Stephanie in chocolate fudge. Just at the edge of the frame, clearly the one holding the phone, was Jason, grinning from ear to ear like he knew something they didn't. The caption verified that.

[You're a bad influence on me, Kara. }:-P]

Kara laughed uproariously, the civilians around giving her a strange look, since her laughter had the unfortunate backdrop of distant explosions. Shaking her head, she typed a reply.

[What did Damian do when he found out you did it?]

[Who says he ever did?]

She chuckled, unable to reply when her earpiece clicked on with Kal's voice.

"Supergirl, you're up!"

Kara put her phone away and retreated to a nearby alley, thumbing a control on her watch before taking off her glasses. In seconds, the watch transformed from a wrist adornment into a slim red gauntlet that encased her hands and forearm up to her elbow, which was capped with a more rigid structure protecting the joint. The material feeding out of the device spread over her entire body as she sped out of her civilian clothes in a blur, replicating the gauntlet on the other arm while the rest of her body was rapidly encased. Her feet were enclosed by knee-high red boots with knee-guards similar to the gauntlets, the entire suit trim and tailored to her form while allowing maximum range of motion. The final pieces to expand were a blue high collar that went all the way up her neck and the classic red cloak that fed from dual ports in the shoulders.

Completing the picture was a stylized red "S" on her chest, startling against the blue background and set against gold accents. Supergirl stepped from the alley covered from the neck down in Kryptonian nanotech, a faint hexagonal pattern visible if you looked close enough at the form-fitting material. Smiling, she tapped her left gauntlet, pulling up a holographic interface linked to her phone and typing out a reply at superspeed before taking off.

[He's Damian Wayne, Jace. Of COURSE he found out]

…

Back at Wayne Manor, Jason laughed, red with embarrassment. He glanced at Damian, who was sitting in front of the Batcomputer with a tub of popcorn as he watched the battle in Metropolis unfold from the body cameras of the various League members in attendance. He crunched on another mouthful, glancing in Jason's direction as he wheeled his own chair closer to the screen. Jason dipped his hand into the tub, to Damian's chagrin, and crunched down right as Supergirl entered the fight.

"Whooo!" he shouted, accidentally spewing half-chewed popcorn all over the keyboard.

Damian glared at him. "I swear you do this on purpose."

Jason hummed and shrugged as he grabbed another handful. "It's almost like I'm finally getting you back for being such an annoying twit."

He frowned at the star-struck look on Jason's face, especially when he noticed exactly where Jason's eyes kept lingering.

Damian's arms crossed as he smirked smugly. "I thought you said you weren't looking for a girlfriend."

Jason blinked hard and stared at him, jaw frozen mid-bite as he swallowed slowly, visibly considering his response. "Who said anything about—"

Damian mimed a lovestruck idiot as his voice went falsetto. "Oh Supergirl, bathe me in your light! I can't live without your flowing blonde locks!"

" _Now_ who's acting like the fanboy?" Jason growled through clenched teeth, face redder by the second.

He shrugged and tossed a couple corns down the hatch. "Just voicing what _isn't_ being said."

"A relationship with Kara would be unusual, irresponsible, and…"

Damian's eyebrow arched in question.

Jason blushed down to his roots. "…wonderful." He leaned forward with a groan, head in his hands. "Oh God…I'm crushing so hard and it's awful."

Damian's face stretched in a Cheshire grin as he leaned toward Jason to put a "comforting" hand on his shoulder. "Now, how could you ever get even with me when you give me such a steady source of blackmail material?"

Jason snapped to him, red-faced and threatening. "Don't you dare—"

His grin widened.

Alfred arrived in the Batcave minutes later with a refill of popcorn per Damian's instructions only to find the teen in question furiously wrestling with his brother mid-laughter. Sighing, the old Brit laid the tub down on the Batcomputer desk and set about cleaning the spilled pile. An exasperated smile tugged at his lips when they crashed into something somewhere else into the cave.

…

"Babs, I need your advice."

Oracle's voice over the video com. was as incredulous as she looked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Jason confirmed, pressing an ice pack to a particularly angry bruise on the side of his head.

Damian had been trying to collect "blackmail material" on his and Kara's interactions for over a week already, and in his attempts to prevent its acquisition—or barring that, confiscate it—Damian had made him pay for every inch.

"Um…a little busy?" Barbara motioned to her own screens, which were filled with an active Justice League operation in Markovia.

"It's nothing big, just a teeny…tiny…temporal crisis."

She shot him a look through the screen. "Okay?" she asked uncertainly.

"I have a huge crush on Supergirl and I don't know what to do about it."

Her eyes widened comically, staring at the screen. " _What_?"

"I know. It's problematic, on several levels."

"I bet."

"I mean…" he bit his lower lip, "this is the whole reason I avoided her at the wedding." He jammed his palms into his eyes, tone little more than an exasperated groan. "I _knew_ this would happen. I mean, I've been crushing on her for _years_ , but this time it's different because now she's actually close to my age and super attractive and… _attainable_. And I don't know what to do."

The silence that answered prompted him to turn back to the screen only to see a black sheet staring back at him.

"Oh, son of a—"

…

"Long day?"

Jason groaned as he leaned back in bed, phone to his ear. "Yeah. Two back-to-back presentations in front of a whole class."

"Yeesh. Public speaking, am I right?"

"Yup. _So_ glad Damian is the firstborn. Can't imagine having to take over as the public face of Wayne Enterprises. Although…I actually think _Tim_ was given the company in the will."

"You sure you should be spouting this over an open line?" Kara asked, a teasing grin in her voice. "Anyone could be listening in."

Jason smiled. "Pretty sure no one's going to be bugging your phone and mine is encrypted five ways from Sunday. Oh and Damian, if you're listening, I'm going to destroy the recording." He lowered his voice, mock-whispering into the phone. "He already knows about the will."

Kara giggled and sighed. "So what's your weekend looking like?"

"Oh…I don't know. First time in a while I don't have a ton of homework. Probably gonna lounge around at home and eat junk food all day."

"Ah, the benefits of the one percent."

Jason chuckled. "There _is_ this one new Greek place in the city I've been wanting to try." He stopped mid-thought, heart lurching when an idea struck him out of nowhere. "Um…" he began nervously, "would…would you like to try it with me?"

The silence on the other end lasted almost five full seconds before Kara's voice answered with a teasing lilt. "Why Jason…are you asking me out?"

Jason's lips pursed tightly, feeling a bit lightheaded at how fast his heart was beating. Despite this, he managed to steady his voice. "Yes. Yes I am."

"So this is a date?"

"Absolutely."

Kara chuckled on the other end. "Just making sure. You weren't exactly clear last time."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'd pick you up, but…"

"Appreciate it, but I'm flying thank you very much."

He laughed. "I'll text you the address. Eight o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

"Then…good night for now?"

She giggled. "Yeah, good night, Jace."

"Night."

Jason laid back-first on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face for a good ten seconds before he heard the faintest hint of a snicker through the door. He was out of the bed in a second.

"Delete it, now!"

Damian's maniacal cackles echoed throughout the manor as Jason chased him down.

…

Weeks after their meeting in Metropolis, Lois knew something was up when she heard whirring coming from the guest room of the Kent house. Frowning, she ducked into Jon's room to see him lounging on the bed with his face buried in a book, headphones on and a wide grin spread over his face. Lois closed the door on her way to the guest room and softly clicked it open. Her eyes widened when she saw a pinkish-gray blur zipping back and forth, stopping every so often wearing something different.

"What on _Earth_ are you doing, Kara?"

She came to an abrupt stop, glasses hanging halfway off her face when she whirled toward Lois, the slightly longer skirt of her current number tangling in her feet and sending her tumbling to the ground. Lois' eyebrows shot skyward as Kara slowly pushed herself upright, completely red in embarrassment.

Lois shrugged. "Care to explain?"

"Not really," she grumbled, smoothing down her pink floral skirt.

"Hm," Lois hummed absently in reply, taking in her cousin-in-law's flustered appearance. She sat down on Kara's bed and expectantly patted the space beside her.

With a flat look, the teenager complied and leaned her chin on her palms.

"Two years is a big age difference for high schoolers."

Kara blinked hard. " _What_?" Her face went even redder when Lois stared at her with a knowing smile. "H-How did you—"

"You are _not_ as subtle about your giggles as you think. Also, woman's intuition."

She arched a suspicious eyebrow. "And Kal eavesdrops on me."

Lois shrugged nonchalantly. "Well that too."

Kara glared at her, pouting.

"I can't take you seriously when you do that," she chuckled. Lois grinned. "I've been on the receiving end of the _Bat Glare_ , Kara."

A sigh. "Good point."

"So, your place or his?"

"Well considering he can't fly, his place." She shrugged. "Sort of. There's a local restaurant he wants to introduce me to," she added.

"Ooh, classy."

"He said to dress casual."

Lois frowned at her choice of attire. "Well, not that pink isn't your color, but I think you should go with something a little…shorter."

Kara gave her a scandalized look.

"Not like _that_!" she laughed. "I'm just saying, Gotham doesn't have the greatest reputation for the cleanliness of its streets, and if I'm not mistaken, it's been raining there for the last three days. So unless you want to be doing laundry for the same clothes for three consecutive loads…"

Kara nodded and tilted her head. "Fair enough."

She zipped over to the closet, finding another dress with a solid pink skirt that went down just below her knees, complimented by a white blouse with columns of tiny sunflowers sewn into the pattern. Her glasses and a seashell bracelet completed the picture of "adorable nerd," and Lois had to restrain a small squeal of delight. She gave Kara a grinning two thumbs up.

"Thanks," Kara sighed, adjusting the hem of her skirt.

"Do you have your suit just in case?"

Kara nodded and tapped the watch on her left wrist.

"Good." Lois stood and smoothed Kara's blouse. "You look great. Knock 'im dead."

She smiled blindingly, cheeks a little red in excitement. "Thanks, Lo."

Kara leaned up and kissed her cheek, Lois returning the affection. Kara sidled up to Jon's door and cracked it open, raising her voice to get his attention.

"Hey, how do I look?"

"Like a fruit puff!" Jon answered with a thumbs-up before returning his attention to his book.

Kara laughed and shut the door before traipsing down the stairs and barreling out the door. "Going out, Kal!"

"Going what?"

The door clattered behind her a moment later, and Clark poked his head into the landing at the bottom of the stairs, giving his wife a questioning look. Lois just grinned and shook her head, chuckling as she returned to her home office.

…

"Going out!"

Bruce's head snapped up and turned to the source of the voice. "You're clear on the procedure? You call Alfred if anything happens." He frowned. "Maybe we should go with you, so you won't be alone."

"Nope! I'll be fine," he insisted, scrambling to put on his jacket. Jason threw them a winning smile. "You guys enjoy your night in."

"Let us know how it is!" Diana called from her place snuggled up against Bruce.

"Will do, Ma!"

The door closed moments later, Bruce staring at it for a long minute before sighing hard. "This is a date, isn't it?"

"Oh undoubtedly."

He frowned.

"And I thought you learned better than to be a helicopter parent."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Diana smiled. "Perk up, Bruce. What is there to worry about? We both know he's a perfect gentleman, and she's far too strong for him to come to any harm."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

She scooted up and mounted her chin on her palm. "Then what?"

Bruce snorted. "Aside from the fact that Kryptonians and Bats don't traditionally mix?"

"Kryptonians and _Waynes_ , more like," she corrected, tapping his jaw.

"Tell that to Damian and Jon."

Diana stared at him.

He huffed. "Okay, point taken."

Her amused air slowly faded. "That's not all you're worried about."

Bruce's head shook. "Di, I saw them in the Planet, when they came back together. I _saw_ the way he looked at her."

She smiled teasingly. "And?"

He met her eyes with a firm gaze. "And Brainiac-5 wasn't that long ago."

Diana's mirth immediately faded to a frown. "You're…you're worried she's using him as a rebound."

He nodded.

Her frown deepened as she looked away in thought. "No." Her head shook moments later. "No, Kara knows better." Her jaw tightened. "Or at least she damn well _better_. Even _my_ forgiveness has its limits."

…

"Is your watch in operation, sir?"

Jason smiled and tapped it. "Yup, all good. See you in a few, Al!"

Alfred smiled at him through the rearview mirror of the town car as Jason stepped out, zipping up his leather jacket and taking a moment in front of the rear window to fix his hair. He gave Alfred a thumbs-up, then turned to the restaurant and stood by the door. The restaurant was situated in a middle-class neighborhood, sandwiched between two apartment buildings. A graphic of a Spartan guarding a gate was lit up in neon with the word "Acropolis" above him. The front glass door was flanked on either side by concrete fixtures sculpted like Greek columns, and though he couldn't see much of the inside from the outside, that was due to dim lighting that evoked feelings of firelight.

He rubbed his hands, breathing into them to keep warm as the car pulled away and checked his watch, a platinum-plated device with rich leather straps. Contained in the hollow of the watch's mechanisms was also a tracker that could be activated by pressing both the glass and knob of the watch.

 _Almost eight. Let's hope she's punctual._

A muffled crash came from a nearby alley, snapping his attention there and putting him on alert. A couple more rattles reached Jason's ears, his eyebrows slowly hiking upward until a frazzled Kara stumbled out of the alley in a light brown pea coat and her familiar glasses. He saw a hint of a solid pink skirt peeking out of her jacket, pulled down to cover her legs a bit more against the wind.

Jason fought vainly against a teasing smirk. "Is clumsiness universal to the Kents, or is it just the skirt?"

Kara blushed and pursed her lips. "Shut up," she scolded without heat.

He chuckled and held out his arm, nodding at the door. "Shall we?"

He cursed internally at how his voice was shaking, though he knew it wasn't due to nerves.

Apparently, she recognized this. "Geez, I wish you hadn't waited for me out here. You're _freezing_."

She rubbed his hand, which he felt way too sharply, as if to prove her point. All he could focus on was how warm and soft hers were, even in the frigid wind. Coughing hard, he shrugged and ushered her through the door, hoping she would take his red cheeks as a sign of the cold.

"I wasn't waiting long," he said. "Unlike the Wests and Allens, you're actually on time, which I can appreciate."

Kara giggled and rubbed his hand a few more times. Jason smiled and turned his attention to the place itself, which he hadn't realized was styled more like a bar than a restaurant. He approached the counter with a bit of trepidation. The place was practically empty, though it was a school night, so he hadn't exactly expected a crowd. The barkeep arched an eyebrow at the pair as he ran a rag along the inside of a glass.

He smirked. "Do your parents know you're here?"

 _Well…_

Jason laughed it off, smoothly replying, "Table for two, please."

The barkeep sighed and laid the glass down. "This is an adult establishment. Unless one of you can prove you're over 18, you're gonna have to take date night somewhere else."

He snorted. "Trust me, the hard stuff is the last thing on our minds."

The other man shrugged. "Sorry, my hands are tied. It's policy."

"Seriously?" Jason chewed that over for a second before a devious smile slowly pulled at his lips. "Not even for a Wayne?"

His eyebrows hiked upward. "Wayne?"

Jason grinned. "That's right." He stuck out his hand. "Jason Wayne."

The man stared at his hand before crossing his arms. "Right. Because a Wayne would walk into my bar."

"Why not?"

"Of course."

At the sarcasm in his tone, Jason rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. "If you don't believe me—" he whipped out his black card and slapped it on the counter, "—run _that_."

The barkeep eyed him suspiciously, taking the card and swiping it through the register. His eyes went triple-wide a second later, slowly turning back to Jason's grinning face.

"We good?"

The man nodded slowly, smiling pleasantly and waving to a nearby waiter. "Absolutely, Mr. Wayne. George! Get these two the best table in the house."

Jason waved dismissively. "I think a booth will suit us just fine."

He shrugged. "Whatever you need, sir."

Jason smiled pleasantly, glancing to his side to see Kara holding back laughter. When they were seated with menus and glasses of water, she finally voiced her thoughts.

"Must be nice to have that kind of pull."

He shrugged and smiled ruefully. "One of the few perks of the name. You'd be amazed how many doors will open with a little extra coin to grease the hinges."

"No I wouldn't," Kara said with a frown.

Jason frowned and leaned forward on his elbows. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and stirred a straw through her water. "I've been working on college applications and portfolios all year."

"You're what now, 17?"

She nodded.

He chewed his lower lip. "And studying fashion design, right?"

Kara nodded, tugging on her blouse. "I made _this_ myself. This whole outfit, actually."

"Well, it definitely suits you," Jason said with a smile. He tapped around the sides of his eyes. "And it _works_ with the glasses."

She smiled back. "Thanks." She nodded to him. "What about you? What are your plans after high school?"

Jason shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I'm already studying at the college level, but apart from the immediacy of socialization and…my _other_ mission…" another shrug, "I guess I'm just taking it one day at a time." He huffed. "Especially now that I've had to put that mission on hold."

Kara reached out and took his hand reassuringly. "You'll figure it out."

He smiled. "Thanks." His unoccupied hand idly traced patterns into the table while they sat in silence. "Why did you say yes?"

She blinked. "Hm? To what?"

"To me. Tonight, I mean."

She looked up in thought, pouting a bit (again, _adorable_ ). "I don't know. I guess I needed a change of pace. I love my cousin and his family, but sometimes I just need a little… _me_ time, you know?"

Jason nodded emphatically. "It's difficult enough to grab some quiet time under normal circumstances, but ever since we started texting, Damian's been _unbelievably_ nosy."

Kara snorted a laugh. "And that surprises you?"

"No, I guess not," he said with a flat look.

She kept giggling to herself until the waiter came back with a notepad.

"You two ready to order?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes," Jason replied, waving at Kara, "ladies first."

Kara grinned and tilted her head. "Thank you."

"And remember, tonight is on me, so money's no object."

She chuckled and focused on the menu. "I'll have the moussaka."

"Of course," said the waiter, marking it down. "And for you, sir?"

"Gyro platter, biggest you got."

"Right away."

Jason and Kara folded up their menus and handed them over, then leaned back in their seats and fell silent for a bit.

"Also," Kara said suddenly, getting his attention, "you kept me smiling on days that were…not so great." She shrugged with a small blush. "So there's that."

His lips twitched upward. "Good." He leaned back on his hands. "That's good."

"…why'd you ask?"

Jason blinked hard, freezing up. Now that _was_ the question, wasn't it?

He shrugged and met her eyes. "Same reason, I guess. Change of pace, you make me smile…and twice now you've pulled me out of a dark place mentally." He smiled gratefully. "Not everyone knows when to do that. Most don't even know _how_ …and even fewer are willing to try." His smile widened. "That's one of the things I always admired about you, Kara. That…unending compassion you have for other people. One of many things you share with your cousin, and easily the most powerful."

Kara laughed awkwardly and rubbed her neck, hiding half her face by a fallen sheet of hair. "You're just saying that."

"You do realize I've actually known you for _years_ , right?"

She blinked.

"Not in this time, granted, and by then your identity was already well fleshed out, but…" he smiled nostalgically, "you're still the same bright sunflower."

Kara stared at him wide-eyed for a second before smiling. "Thanks."

He opened his mouth to reply when the ground rumbled and a loud _boom_ was heard from somewhere down the block. Jason's instincts immediately forced him from the chair, and he was halfway to the window before they all blew out and he was thrown backward by a shockwave that peppered his body with a torrent of shattered glass. Someone shouted his name as he felt his back slam against the tiled floor, distantly aware of several shallow cuts on his face and hands. Absently, he thought it could've been much worse, given how much glass had been sent flying at him. Thankfully, his carbon-fiber armored jacket took the brunt of it, though that didn't help the bump he could feel growing on the back of his head.

Slowly, with a groan, he felt himself being lifted into a sitting position by familiar hands, then yanked upright by rough, unfamiliar ones. Men and women in black cargo pants and body armor shuffled into the restaurant, the ringing in Jason's ears preventing him from understanding what was being shouted. But their intent was hardly subtle, and the ballistic masks made it even clearer. This wasn't some random attack; it was a kidnapping. And suddenly, it all fell into place for Jason's slowly recovering mind.

 _No way was this wrong place wrong time. That damn barkeep tipped them off. Or maybe the waiter? No, I never told him my name._

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a hard shove toward the door, glancing over his shoulder to see two of the kidnappers attempting to pull Kara along. As much as he knew they couldn't hurt her if they tried, he didn't want her involved in this. Tonight had already gone sideways enough, and by the look in her eye, she was having trouble not just decking them all and being done with it.

"She has nothing to do with this," Jason said as coherently as he could. "Leave her."

"Oh contraire," one of them drawled, his voice and confident stance indicating leadership of the bunch. "Anyone who rubs elbows with a _Wayne_ must be a _little_ interesting."

Jason's teeth ground together, both at the rejection and Kara's fierce look. He met her eyes and shook his head ever-so-slightly. There were too many people around, security cameras, and she wouldn't be able to move without someone seeing her and making the connection, even at superspeed. Kara's jaw visibly worked, but she gave him a stiff nod and rolled with it, her petite form undamaged but coated in a layer of dust and soot.

"Come along now," the leader said, grabbing Jason by the collar of his jacket.

The next thing he knew, he was being dumped in the back of a blacked-out van, arms zip-tied behind his back. Kara was laid down next to him, prompting him to cast a furious glare at the woman who'd dropped her off. Apparently, she didn't like that, because the next thing she did was crack the butt of an automatic rifle over the side of his skull.

…

When Jason woke, it was in a blacked-out haze that left his vision blurry and his head pounding like a Cherokee drum. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, distantly aware of a voice moving in cadence similar to a speech. He didn't need to hear the words to know it was a recorded ransom demand. Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the first time he'd been kidnapped, at least as a civilian. That was at eight years old, and he'd been taken from school on the tail end of the day. It was resolved when Wonder Woman and Robin found him and _brutally_ dismantled his kidnappers. To be honest, most of the brutality had been on Robin, though Wonder Woman had certainly _not_ been pleased, to the point where she didn't even blink at Damian's methods.

Batman had been away at the time, on an outreach mission in deep space, but when he got back and found out, he'd been absolutely livid and used every bit of pull he had to throw the book at them. Needless to say, the culprits wouldn't have seen the light of day until most of their hair had turned gray. Of course, that was all moot now, hadn't even happened yet, but given the current situation, Jason suspected there was about to be a repeat incident.

The still-hazy voice of his lead captor snapped him back to the present. "Fifty million dollars by midnight, or the kid and his date get it."

Jason would snort a laugh at that and make a mental bet on how long it'd be before the bunch was getting their faces kicked in if it wasn't for one thing.

Apart from the one in front of the camera, none of them were wearing masks anymore.

And his watch, his one lifeline, was sitting on a nearby table next to his jacket, wallet, and belt. Seemed they'd taken anything of value or use to escape and—

When he pulled on his restraints, something more than the zip-ties resisted him.

"You're awake," whispered a relieved voice behind him.

He struggled to make his voice work through the headache and dizziness. "C-Clara?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Sorry this is still going on. They've been watching us like hawks this whole time; no opportunity to break free without blowing my cover. Yet."

Jason's jaw tightened, eyes squeezing shut against the hammer pounding the side of his skull. "We better think of something fast, for both our sakes."

"What?"

He nodded at the crowd of captors. "Notice anything different?"

Kara blinked slowly, eyes widening a second later. "No masks."

As soon as the camera turned off, the leader took his off as well, striding over to the captured pair, who were tied to metal chairs facing away from each other. The leader pulled up another one and set it down backwards in front of Jason, leaning over the backrest with a smirk on his lips.

"I read your interview with Vicki Vale," he said. "Interesting stuff."

Jason arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Thank you," he replied evenly.

The man's smirk widened. "You told her you traveled around the world with that mom of yours. That true?"

"With both of them, actually, but for obvious reasons, Dad had to keep a lower profile. Why?"

His head shook with a shrug. "Just figured you'd have seen some pretty amazing things in your life, however short it's been."

Jason blinked slowly, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "You have no intention of letting us go, do you? Even if my parents do pay."

He smiled apologetically. "Afraid not, kid. It's nothing personal. Frankly, from what I heard in that interview, I think we'd get along famously."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "This is a job for you, not just a crime of opportunity. You were _hired_ to take me."

He laughed heartily. "Damn! Smarter than I expected, too. Must get it from your mom's side of the family."

Jason fought a smirk. "Must be. Well, since I'm apparently not walking out of here alive, mind telling me who paid you off?"

He tsked and wagged his finger side to side. "No-no-no, I'm not falling for _that_ old trick. You're smart, kid, and for that you have my respect. And a few minutes to get your affairs in order." He smirked and nodded at Kara. "Let you and your lady say goodbye to each other."

"You know," said one of his men, "we should've asked the mom to deliver it personally." He smiled malevolently, flashing crooked teeth. "I certainly wouldn't mind getting five minutes alone with _that_ broad."

Jason fought the urge to gag and laugh tauntingly at the same time. Instead, he smiled unpleasantly and directed a veiled glare at the speaker. "You know, one of the downsides to having such great genetics on both sides…is that I constantly have to deal with people from all ends of gender spectrum hitting on my parents. And then there are crass little assholes like _you_ who I just _despise_." His smile widened, venom lacing his otherwise pleasant tone. "Which is why _you'll_ be the first to die."

The room was dead silent for a full five seconds before the man he was threatening and most of the rest burst into laughter.

"You think you can take on the six of us…alone?" the "crass" thug asked mid-laugh.

Jason shrugged and nodded back at Kara. "I have _her_."

"As what," he snorted, "a meat shield?"

He threw him a peeved look. "You have a few women on your own team, and you'd underestimate mine?" He tsked and shook his head slowly. "For shame."

The leader directed a mild glare at the rest to shut them up before straightening in his chair and turning back to Jason. "Listen, kid, don't make this any harder than it has to be. I get that you're scared and angry, but this is just how it is." He stood and pulled the chair away with a faint grind of metal on concrete. "We'll give you two a minute of privacy."

He and the rest sidled out of the room, some still chuckling at Jason's threat as they pulled a reinforced metal door closed behind them. The ominous click of a lock engaging on the other side reached them a second before Jason let out a relieved sigh.

"Alone at last," Kara drawled. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait—" His lips pursed as he craned his head toward her and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Before you do anything, scan the room for cameras."

She gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

Jason frowned. "Last time I was in the field, my cover was blown because I overlooked a hidden camera. They could be watching us right now and if they see you use your powers, that would be _bad_. Especially since we're not _actually_ going to kill them."

"Yeah," she replied with a frown, scanning the room, "I was wondering about that."

He shrugged, testing his restraints. "I needed to throw them off-balance psychologically. Maybe get them to give up something."

"And did they?"

"Well, he doesn't think very highly of you, so that's a plus. Means he'll underestimate how strong you are." Jason grunted as he verified the lack of reinforced joints on his zip-cuffs and filled the air with the crackle of the straps being pulled tighter, almost enough to cut off his circulation. "And there are only six of them."

"Damn."

"What? That a problem?"

"No." She glanced back at them. "You were right about the camera."

Jason snarled and grunted with effort. "Thought so."

"What are you doing?"

"Tightening my cuffs."

"Wha—why?"

"Because," he hissed, wrists working to get to the right angle, "it increases the stress on the joints…makes them—"

A pop of his arms later, and he felt the plastic give out, the pressure keeping his wrists together gone.

"—easier to break." Despite his lack of restraints, Jason kept his arms behind him, looking over his shoulder to catch Kara's eye. "Where's the camera? I need an angle."

Kara glanced behind her at a corner in the large, open room. "Knothole in the corner to the left of the one they used to record their message and proof of life."

Jason frowned. "The hell did they get that with me passed out?"

"You don't remember?" she asked worriedly, staring at the side of his head for a second. "Damn."

"What?"

"They must've hit you harder than I thought. You're _definitely_ concussed."

He barked an incredulous laugh. "Great, so on top of everything else, I can expect headaches and memory gaps." He sighed hard, voice cracking just a bit as it lowered to the faintest whisper. "What a disaster."

"What do you mean?"

Jason's jaw tightened and head shook. "Doesn't matter now. We need to get out of here."

"Ideas? Preferably one that doesn't require me to blow my SI."

"Yeah, I got one. But you're gonna have to do something I know you hate."

"What's that?"

He smirked. "Play the damsel in distress."

…

Panicked shrieks for help sounded from the locked cell, drawing the guard to look in through the retractable window and see the blonde screaming her head off in a panic. It wasn't hard to see why: the Wayne kid's body was slumped over in his seat, head almost between his legs, and his shoulders weren't rising and falling.

 _Damn, did his heart give out or something?_

The kid was going to die anyway, but the boss wanted to look him in the eye when he put a bullet through his skull. It was a point of professional pride with him.

It was with that thought that he opened the door and approached the pair, the girl's shrieks ceasing but her panicked breaths not even close to calm. He approached Wayne's limp body, tilting his head back to see his eyes open and dead, staring into infinity. Then he pulled off a glove to check his pulse, and those eyes snapped to his own. He froze for only a split-second, but it was enough.

Before he could even take a breath to shout in alarm, the kid's right hand popped up and nailed him in the windpipe with a rabbit punch, trapping his scream in his throat. Jason's left hand, meanwhile, stopped him from drawing his sidearm while his right leg kicked out the man's rear leg and forced him to a knee. Jason's knee rammed him in the nose and left him gasping for air on his back. A falling cross to the temple finished the job and all he knew was blackness.

…

Jason took his knife and cut Kara's restraints before he took an extra pair from the unconscious thug's ballistic vest and restrained him.

"How we doing?" he asked.

Kara frowned at the door, tuning her ears to motion from outside. "We have maybe thirty seconds before they come busting in."

Jason smirked as he appropriated the man's pistol and put his jacket back on, zipping it up fully. "Plenty of time." He got his watch and belt back on as well.

Kara directed a hard look at the gun in his hands. "What's that for?"

"This, for one." He shot at the faint glint of the camera in the corner, knocking it out. "And also, we need to make this look good."

"Good? Those are real bullets, Jace."

"Yup," he confirmed by checking the magazine, "but the body armor's real too." He directed a nod at the unconscious body.

"If your plan is to avoid having our cover blown, this isn't exactly the greatest idea."

"Based on _what_?"

She blinked hard and stared at him. "So two kids taking on five heavily armed kidnappers alone is more realistic than me punching through a wall?"

He arched an eyebrow and jabbed a thumb into his chest. "Kid of an enigmatic foreigner who spent his childhood traveling the world." He waved at Kara. "Person I choose to spend my time with." A smirk tugged at his lips as the sound of approaching steps reached him. "That guy was wrong about one thing." Jason pressed his side against the wall left of the door as she took the other side, both waiting in ambush.

"What's that?"

Jason looked over at her and smiled blindingly, open admiration in his eyes. "You are _so_ much more than interesting."

…

Kara stared at him for a long moment, made even longer by her enhanced perception, before turning to the door and looking through it to see the five kidnappers aiming at it with automatic rifles, their formation staggered through a short hallway riddled with brick columns and side rooms. The leader, who she'd heard one of the others call Rance, was at the very back of their formation, with the two women between the quiet male and the one Jason had threatened. It was a zigzag of interlocking fire, and she didn't like Jason's chances if he stepped out there, but it was clear they weren't about to come in knowing he was armed.

They didn't expect Jason to pop out just his hand and fire three shots at the single industrial light in the center of the hallway, shattering it and leaving the room pitch dark.

" _Remember_ ," she heard him whisper, " _no super strength_."

Kara gave him a small nod before yanking the door open and letting Jason charge through. Gunfire broke out immediately, the silhouette of Jason's body cast by the lights in the cell drawing their ire. He lunged for one of the columns, brick dust flying everywhere as they pounded his cover with automatic fire. Kara came through a second after him, noting that not one directed a shot in her direction. Jason was right; they didn't think much of her at all.

 _Their mistake,_ she thought with a smirk.

The near-pitch darkness masked her movements, the muzzle flares of Jason's return fire the guiding light that drew their attention like moths to a flame. They never even saw her coming until she was standing to the side of the woman closest to the cell, a faint breeze the only hint of her superspeed. She grabbed the barrel of the kidnapper's rifle before she could turn the gun on Kara, "struggling" with her for a few seconds before falling back and planting her foot in the woman's gut. She hit a column further down the hallway a second later with a scream and a crack.

And _then_ they started firing at her.

Kara ducked into another room, a gasp and cry from the other woman indicating she'd been shot by Jason. Quinn, the "crass little asshole," roared in fury as he pounded Jason's column with the remaining rounds in his gun. He switched to his pistol the moment he clicked empty. Kara could see them all clearly, an advantage Jason didn't have, so she waited for Quinn to reload, then charged for him. The other man got in her way and grabbed her by the throat, whirling her around and putting his gun to her head.

"Stop shooting or I'll—"

Kara drove her elbow into his gut, grabbing his pistol with her other hand just as it went off, sending a round into the ceiling. She used that hand to flip him over her shoulder, going to the ground and wrapping her legs around his gun arm. She pulled back hard, overextending his elbow and dislocating his shoulder in the process. He screamed in pain for a second before she drove the butt of his pistol into his temple and knocked him out. The still-conscious woman was pulled behind Rance's firing line by Quinn, who had abandoned his pistol for her weapon, which was bulkier around the barrel than the rest of the rifles.

Jason spent his last few shots suppressing and driving them back into the large room beyond the hallway. Kara looked through the walls to see a dilapidated brick room with a metal exit door at the far end and a broken-down floor on the left, filled with dirty water dripping from a sewer drainpipe. There was another industrial light casting faint light over the entirety of the room, along with more brick columns spaced throughout. Kara frowned and tossed her stolen weapon to Jason, who verified the chamber was loaded before nodding at the open doorway into the final room.

Kara waved at one of the side rooms, drawing him in as he covered the doorway. She whispered their arrangement and remaining weaponry in the next room, and he nodded with a smile before ambling up to the edge of the door and raising his voice.

"You're all still breathing so far!" Jason shouted. "Throw down your weapons now and you'll stay that way!"

Rance answered. "I took a job, kid, and I won't break it! Professional pride, you see!"

His jaw tightened. "You willing to die for that pride?!"

"Bring it on, rich boy!" Quinn roared.

And with that, Jason opened fire, sending his first two shots into Quinn's body armor with pinpoint accuracy thanks to Kara's directions. Automatic fire returned in their direction, sending a thick cloud of brick dust expanding over the doorway. Jason used that cover to lunge through and dive for the cover of a square brick column. Rance zeroed in on him immediately, putting three shots in him mid-roll, the sight briefly stopping Kara's heart. Jason gasped and grunted with the impact as he rolled into cover, but when Kara took a closer look at him, there was no blood coming from him, just little puffs of dust.

And then he pulled one of the crushed bullets from his jacket and she realized why he'd put it back on.

Speaking of which, he unzipped the jacket and grabbed the left flap with his left hand while his right held his gun aloft, taking a few sharp breaths to hype himself up. He charged their right flank a second later, most of them save Quinn down to semi-automatics that pounded his jacket but stopped there. Since it wasn't pressed up against his body, the rounds' force dissipated the moment they hit the fiber-armored flap and left him charging at them full-speed, returning fire that hit the woman's torso three more times before he moved onto Rance, who ducked behind cover.

Kara took the opportunity to close the distance at just above human speed, leaping into a knee that sent Rance's sidearm flying into a far wall. He didn't miss a beat and drew a knife on her, swinging at her repeatedly. She dodged it all, of course, catching sight of Quinn roaring to his feet and charging Jason barrel-first. If she didn't know Jason was outfitted in armored future-tech, she'd have been worried, but as it stood, Jason was able to avoid being hit except in his jacket until he closed the distance and angled the barrel away from his body.

Quinn grabbed Jason's gun and shunted it away before he could fire into his vest at point-blank. Several rounds were fired uselessly as they struggled for leverage superiority, Quinn managing to knee him just above the elbow. A cry escaped Jason's throat as he dropped the pistol, using his free hand to swing for Quinn's head. Quinn tucked his arm against his cheek, the incoming blow hitting his guard uselessly. He grabbed the back of Jason's head and slammed him with a headbutt, sending him staggering back a step.

Meanwhile, Kara easily dodged Rance's precise swings and stabs, catching sight of the woman attempting to retrieve Jason's pistol and get a bead on him. Kara ducked under a particularly far lunge and used Rance's brief lack of footing to throw him over her shoulder at her. He landed headfirst on her back, her fire hitting the wall instead of her intended target. Rance barrel-rolled off her when he saw Kara come in for a low kick, nailing the woman in the back of the head and knocking her out. She glanced to the side to see Jason and Quinn struggling over the rifle, Jason grabbing his firing hand's wrist and twisting it to make him grab the stock instead of the grip.

Jason grabbed the grip instead and pivoted his hips hard, angling the rifle's barrel in Rance's direction. He noticed and dove behind a pillar just as automatic fire broke out in a sustained burst that only ended when Quinn hit Jason with another headbutt. When he tried to kick Jason in the knee, Jason turned his hips again, the forward motion throwing Quinn off-balance and allowing the kid to slam him in the head with the hand he'd been using to shoot. Kara returned her attention to finishing Rance, intercepting his wrist mid-stab and twisting it 120 degrees in the wrong direction.

A hard snap preceded Rance's screech of pain, cut off by a ridge-hand strike between the eyes. He was out before he hit the deck. A strangled cry of pain came from Quinn as Jason hook-kicked him in the side of the head before cartwheeling over his back and throwing him face-first into the sewer water. The soiled liquid covered half of his flattened body before he slowly pushed himself onto his knees, aiming dead at Jason's chest. Kara panicked for the briefest of moments before she saw Jason's predatory smile and learned the reason for it a second later.

 _Click._

"Gun's empty, asshole," Jason taunted.

 _So_ that _was why he was shooting at Rance,_ Kara filled in mentally.

Quinn's face paled in panic for a split-second before he glanced at the barrel and grinned malevolently. His cruel eyes met Jason's as his right hand left the trigger of the gun and reached further forward. "You forgot the underslung, bitch."

 _Under-what—_

Kara's eyes widened with Jason's when she saw what he'd been talking about: an underslung grenade launcher mounted to the barrel, and the reason the weapon's front had been so bulky.

"No!" Kara screamed a split-second before she saw the spark of the launcher's muzzle.

An instant later, a deafening explosion shook the room, sending gouts of heat and concussive energy billowing through the air along with a blinding fog of dust and shrapnel. Kara let out a few heavy breaths as she looked through the smoke to see Quinn passed out in the sewage from the back-blast, his nose and mouth just above water level. One side of the room looked like a bomb had gone off (which it had), while the other was completely untouched, and the barrier separating the two?

Kara herself.

Faster than any human eyes could see, she sped between Jason and the grenade, her body catching it barely six feet away from its source. Frankly, the explosion had been so close to Quinn that she was surprised he wasn't in worse shape. Kara released a slow, relieved sigh when she heard Jason's heart beating fast and strong behind her, and turned to approach him with a reassuring smile.

"Hey," she lilted, "you okay?"

He was kneeling on the floor, his body perpendicular to her sight line. And his jacket was in his hands, which was confusing because an explosion had gone off so why wouldn't he want the protection? Then she saw the immense blush on his face and the way his eyes refused to look at her and was even _more_ confused.

Until he stuttered out, "I-I'm fine, just uh…" and offered her the jacket, which was several sizes too big for her.

Kara stared at him in confusion for another second or two before looking down to find that, save her low-heeled shoes and a thick layer of dust and soot, she was buck naked. Not even her glasses had survived intact, missing a lens.

 _Then_ she understood and felt her whole _body_ blush as she quickly donned the jacket with a muttered, "Thanks."

When Jason heard the zipper, he finally looked up at her, just decent enough with his oversized jacket covering her. He gave her a small nod and thumbs-up, visibly trying to keep himself from dying of embarrassment, same as her.

They stood in a long, awkward silence that was soon broken by another loud noise, this time the door being kicked in by a squad of GCPD SWAT officers with a familiar redhead with graying temples at their back.

Commissioner Gordon stared at them blankly as the officers ordered them on the ground, which they did immediately. He took in the half-destroyed room and unconscious bodies with a long, questioning look, his eyebrows steadily climbing upward. Then he looked at the kneeling pair currently being restrained by SWAT, as per procedure, and approached them as he holstered his weapon.

"You two all right?"

Jason grinned crookedly, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Couple bruises and cuts, but otherwise okay." He nodded at the thugs. "Better than _them_ , anyway."

Gordon motioned for the officers to cut them loose, which they did as they restrained the others. He and another plainclothes officer escorted them to a set of overturned chairs, which were rearranged to seat the three of them.

"Want to tell me what happened here?" Gordon asked, eyes squarely on Jason but flickering to Kara's soot-covered features.

"Run-of-the-mill kidnapping. Member of an important family, ransom demands." Jason smiled and shrugged. "You know how it is."

The commissioner nodded slowly, waving at the kidnappers. "And them?"

"Well," Jason looked deep in thought for a moment, "I don't really know."

He arched a red eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

Jason nodded. "One second I was in my chair, about to get my brains blown out, and the next all the lights went out and we heard screams and gunfire." A shrug. "When they came back on, our restraints were cut, and we found _them_ like this."

Gordon's eyes slowly drifted to the oversized jacket on Kara's shoulders. "And what happened to her clothes?"

Jason frowned, a trace of outrage tinging his tone. "One of them was smoking and lit her dress on fire for kicks. We had to ditch it."

Kara stared at Jason wide-eyed. Perhaps it was because of how much of his "history" was false, perhaps it was part of being a Bat, but he lied so smoothly, Kara wouldn't have been able to tell were it not for the faint, almost indiscernible variations in his heart rate. Even so, Gordon didn't look like he bought it.

In the end, though, all he did was nod and purse his lips. "I see." Then, a reassuring smile graced his severe features and he stood up, holding a hand to help Kara up. "We have paramedics standing by outside to check you two out before we send you home. Your parents will be glad to know you're okay."

Kara frowned in confusion. "How _did_ you find us, anyway?"

Jason smirked. "Billionaire parents plus potential kidnappers—" he held up his left hand, making his watch obvious, "equals paranoid countermeasures. They put a GPS tracker in my watch. All I had to do was turn it on, which I would've done earlier had they not knocked me out at the restaurant."

Kara and the commissioner nodded.

"Led us right to you," he said, giving the destroyed room another sweeping look. "Though it seems we weren't needed after all."

Jason grinned. "It's the thought that counts."

"Hm. Anyhow. Montoya," he called, getting the attention of the plainclothes officer. "Get these two to the paramedics."

"Right away, sir," she answered in a faint Hispanic accent.

Montoya gave them a reassuring smile, holding Kara by the shoulders as she led them out of the building and into the cold night air.

…

Kara knew from looking through the walls, but the location where they'd been held was the basement of an abandoned steel mill on the edge of town. No one but ne'er-do-wells around for miles, so the perfect place for an execution—or a gunfight, as the case had been. Not that the noise would've pierced the thick walls and ground.

At any rate, the paramedics had been astonished to find out she was unharmed, which she barely restrained a smirk at. Jason, on the other hand, was riddled with mostly minor injuries and, yes, a concussion. Overall not injured enough for a hospital, which, she knew from their conversations, he'd be _very_ happy about. Between Deathstroke and Richard Dragon, he was _so_ sick of hospitals.

Once they'd given Kara the all-clear, she strode over to his ambulance, clutching the blanket they'd given her even closer despite not needing it. Appearances had to be kept, after all. When she came within sight of him, finally catching him alone, Kara froze for a moment at the look on his face. She'd seen a number of his expressions tonight, from the confident, threatening mask he showed their kidnappers to the quirky, nonchalant air he'd put on in front of Commissioner Gordon. But this…this was…

"Hey," she said suddenly, making him jump a bit as his eyes snapped to her face. "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered too quickly. "Just tired."

Kara frowned and pushed herself up to sit next to him. If she had still been wearing only his jacket, she might've hesitated, but the paramedics had been kind enough to offer her a spare set of sweatpants and a hoodie monogrammed, "GCFD."

"That's not it," she said softly. She nudged his arm with her elbow, his own blanket shifting with his uncomfortable shifting. "You're upset about something, I can tell." Kara frowned crookedly when he refused to answer, eyes narrowing with a thoughtful hum before she smirked deviously. "Is it because you saw me naked?"

 _That_ got his attention.

Jason immediately went beet-red and snapped his eyes to her face. "First off, I-I did _not_ …see you naked." He lowered his voice. "When the boom went off and I was intact, I figured you jumped in the way, so I…" he blushed even more, "stared at the ground and took off my jacket." He apparently found the rear bumper of the ambulance very interesting. "I never looked once, promise."

Before she could speak, he continued with a faint mumble he knew she'd hear.

"Besides, I don't think 'upset' would be the right word if I _had_ seen you…like that."

Kara's blonde eyebrows hiked upward, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "Well…flattering as that is, that still doesn't tell me what's nagging at you." She nudged his arm again, trying to coat her voice in as much reassurance as she could. "Come on, you can trust me."

When Jason finally looked at her, she almost gasped at his eyes. There was that same intense, fragile look he'd given her back on Paradise Island, only this time, he hesitated to speak. When he did, it was as quiet and hesitant as the look on his face.

"I'm so sorry."

Kara shrugged. "For what?"

Jason blinked and stared at her incredulously. "For _what_? For—" he waved at the building surrounded by cops, "—dragging you into my _nonsense_. All for a lousy meal at a place with a miserable, backstabbing—" He cut off when they both remembered the barkeep, growling out his next words. "Oh, I _completely_ forgot about him." His upper lip twitched with a snarl. "He is gonna _get_ it when we're done here."

"Jason," Kara prompted, forcing him back on topic.

His face sagged and twitched with regret. "Look, I just…wanted to…I wanted to thank you for being a good friend these past weeks. It…hasn't been easy since losing my powers, and the longer I've been without them, the more I realize how unsustainable my life here has been so far. And it isn't because of my environment, it…it's like…" He looked up, trying to find the words.

"You've been living like a tool instead of a person."

Jason stared at her, sighing with a rueful smile. "Am I really that easy to read?"

Kara shrugged. "You say that like I've never seen it before."

"Have you?"

She smirked. "You've met your brother, right?"

Jason blinked and visibly fought his laughter.

A fight they both lost.

When he regained enough coherence to speak, Jason stared at the pavement, then out into the distance with a pained expression and tone. "Tonight…was a complete, unmitigated _disaster_."

Kara nodded with a pout. "Yup. Totally." She felt him sag at her side and smiled at the building. "But it was fun."

He stared at her aghast.

She leaned back on her hands, arching her back to stretch out. "I got to experience one of the lesser-known perks of being a Wayne tonight."

"Periodic kidnapping and ransom?"

"Exactly."

Jason stared at her for another second or two before shaking his head slowly. "I don't know if you're crazy or just trying to make me feel better."

Kara grinned. "Both."

He huffed and smiled briefly before turning his eyes back to the ground.

She felt her lips turn down for a second, then pushed a reassuring smile onto her face as she tilted her head. "Believe it or not—" Kara turned to meet his hesitant eyes, "—not the worst first date I've ever had."

Jason stared at her, blinking a few times before snorting. "You're right," he said, tone flat. "I _don't_ believe you."

She smirked. "Then I guess I'll have to tell you all about it." She sighed. "But some other night." Her hand drifted up to cup the side of his face. "You look _exhausted_."

Jason huffed and nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes. "It's been a long night."

"Mhm."

"Clara!" came a voice from just beyond the police line.

They both looked over to see three familiar figures. The first, the one who'd called her name, was her cousin in full farmboy gear and glasses, waving at her excitedly. The two standing next to him were Jason's hand-in-hand parents, in casual wear and sports jackets.

Kara sighed. "Well, that's my cue, Jace." She glanced at him, noting that he didn't meet her eyes. "I'll see you later."

"Hm, yeah." He flashed her a brief, hesitant smile, immediately frowning and looking down after. "See you."

Kara couldn't help but match his frown as she got up and left the blanket in the ambulance, taking a few steps toward Clark. She stopped partway there, hearing Jason sigh again and seeing the worried look on his parents' faces. She was _certain_ it wasn't about his physical safety. And with that and a slowly blossoming smirk, she turned back and strutted over to him.

"Hey, Jace."

Jason's head came up, tired eyes meeting hers for a split-second before they went triple-wide, a strangled noise of shock coming from his throat. But that was all that could escape, because her hands were on the back of his head, tangled in his thick black hair, and her lips were wrapped around his. Kara held him there, feeling his own lips move against hers hesitantly while she heard several simultaneous gasps in the distance. It was a couple more seconds before she pulled back and opened her eyes to see his own still wide as ever, his face red enough to match Krypton's sun.

Kara grinned at his dumbstruck expression, releasing his hair to cup his face briefly as she stepped back. "Call me," she said, lowering her voice to a sultry tone as she turned back to Clark and the Waynes, who were all staring at them with similar traces of surprise.

It was barely visible on Bruce, in the form of unusually wide eyes. On Diana, it took the form of _much_ higher eyebrows than usual and a slow nod of respect. On Clark, it was complete, openmouthed shock complemented by red-faced embarrassment almost at Jason's level, probably amplified by the fact that he was standing next to the father of the boy she'd just kissed speechless.

"Shall we?" she asked once on the other side of the police tape.

Clark quickly composed himself and cleared his throat. "Thank you for calling me, Bruce," he muttered quickly before curling an arm around Kara's shoulders and escorting her to a nearby alley.

Kara could hear Bruce and Diana approach Jason's ambulance, and looked back through the buildings to see Diana take his hand while Bruce's arms crossed.

"So," Bruce began in a teasing tone, "how was date night?"

She couldn't help her cackles at the strangled, incoherent mess that made up Jason's answer.

…

It wasn't until he was halfway home that Jason realized she was still wearing his jacket. When the cold began to seep through the cracks in the limo door, he tried to pull it tighter around his shoulders, since he'd also left his blanket at the scene, only to find that he was short a very thick, very warm protective layer. He didn't mind. After the night they'd both endured, she _deserved_ a souvenir. Honestly, he'd been too giddy to care since that kiss, and as he stepped through the front door of the manor, he still was. After the initial shock wore off, Jason had felt a grin split his face and it hadn't stopped once through all the teasing and cajoling from his parents to give him more details about the date.

Though honestly, that had been more Diana than Bruce.

His father had pretty much just sat in the corner with a smirk on his face and a hand entangled with hers. When Jason stepped into the warmth and light of Wayne Manor, he'd been pleasantly surprised to see Damian waiting for them with an impatient air that hinted of worry. He hadn't called him on it when the worry leached out of his features, just exchanged a nod with his brother that reassured him he was okay. Damian disappeared to his room pretty soon after that. And no wonder; it was almost midnight on a Sunday night. He had school in the morning. They both did.

"You're calling in sick tomorrow," Bruce said before he even voiced the thought.

He shot his father a look. "Dad, I've been through worse. Besides, I've already been out two weeks this semester."

"So one day shouldn't make a difference," Diana countered. "Especially not with how you've kept up with your studies."

"Besides," Bruce added, "by now all of Gotham will be privy to the fact that you were kidnapped. If we send you to school the day after, it'll raise suspicion."

Jason huffed in mild frustration but nodded in agreement. "Then I am going to shower and sleep _forever_."

Diana giggled and hugged him as Bruce stood by to do the same. "Then I guess I'll have all day to pester you about it tomorrow."

"Ugh, _Mooom_."

Bruce smiled at his groan, embracing him tightly. Jason felt him relax a moment later; apparently Damian hadn't been the only worried party.

When they separated, Jason frowned up at Bruce questioningly. "I was a little surprised to find GCPD kicking down the door instead of you two. What happened?"

Bruce frowned, exchanging a look with Diana before he answered. "The kidnapping was partnered with an explosion that left half a dozen people injured. Very high-profile. And when Gordon learned you'd been the one taken, he sent his people to sit on us during the ransom demands and beyond."

"We couldn't slip away without drawing suspicion," Diana added, "and since Kara was with you, we didn't see a reason to worry." She smiled. "Besides, we both know how capable you are."

Jason snorted a small laugh. "Well, I guess this time did turn out better than the last."

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "Does that mean you'll be coming back into the field?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe." He smiled at the memory of Gordon's dumbstruck look at the destroyed basement. "We'll see."

Bruce's lips pursed tightly. "Then we'll talk more tomorrow. For now, get some rest, son."

"Absolutely," he sighed, turning for the stairs. "Night, Mom. Night, Dad."

"Good night," they answered in chorus.

Alfred was waiting at the door to his room. "I took the liberty of preparing your bath, sir. Hope you don't mind."

Jason smiled brightly. "Not at all. Thanks, Al."

The kindly old man smiled and bowed. "At your service, sir."

Thirty minutes later, Jason strode through the door to his room with a sigh—and froze immediately upon turning the lights on. On the other side of the room, hanging on the door to his closet—was his jacket. Feeling a smile slowly crawl to his lips, he tossed his soiled clothes in the hamper and strode over to it. A sneaking suspicion spurred him to check the pockets, and in the same one he'd found Kara's number, he found another note scrawled in her handwriting.

" _Next time, I pick the place."_

Just below was an imprint of her adorably soft lips in pink lipstick.

Jason stared at the note for a solid minute before his giddy, tear-inducing laughter shook the whole floor.

* * *

AN: Whoa—did not expect this chapter to turn out this long…oh well. I regret nothing. I've wanted to write this chapter since I began this story, mainly because Supergirl is my second favorite lady in all of DC (Wonder Woman of course being the first). And also because she's an adorable little cinnamon roll who takes crap from nobody and could chew steel if she wanted.

This relationship is most certainly one that'll be a focal point of this story, hence an entire chapter was dedicated to Kara. As for her predictions about his powers…well, you'll have to wait and see.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review this one. It took two weeks and a lot of blood sweat and tears to make it happen.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Josef Salvat - Every Night: Metropolis flight/watching the sunset/"You're not alone"

Earth to Echo - Just Kids: "Not the worst first date"/surprise kiss/discussion of future/end of chapter


	11. Case File 3: Richard Dragon

Trevor Rance, Alec Quinn, Marjorie and Sayd Malik, Hugo Charles, and Nam Duong.

These were the names of Jason and Kara's kidnappers. After Jason had been put to bed, Batman and Wonder Woman paid them a visit in Gotham County Jail. Once again, the Lasso of Truth failed to produce satisfactory answers, mostly because they didn't know, but what they did say was telling—and worrisome. When asked who hired them to kidnap Jason, they pointed out the bartender at Acropolis, who had mysteriously vanished after the fact; no trace whatsoever, and his identity was completely bogus. More worrisome, however, was the name tied to their payment: the Decembrists, the exact same shell corporation that staged the bomb threat at the Gotham Royal.

"There are too many coincidences piling up," Bruce said after the interrogation.

Diana frowned from her seat on the Batcomputer desk while he typed away with a frown. "Are you sure you're not being paranoid, Bruce? I'll admit, I'm wary too, but the nature of the work we do attracts the worst kind of attention." She snorted. "Not to mention the Wayne name."

He frowned at her. "It's too tightly grouped, Diana. In the space of less than six months, he's been shot, stabbed, beaten within an inch of his life, stripped of the powers he's had since birth, and now kidnapped and nearly killed."

Her eyebrows shot skyward and arms crossed. "And what happens to _you_ in the average year?"

Bruce's lips pursed tightly.

Diana smiled ruefully. "I'm not saying it isn't problematic, especially with this new player." She tapped the screen, where the invoice for a transfer from the Decembrists was shown. "But two instances make _coincidence_ , not a conspiracy."

"Except they targeted him _specifically_. Never mind the fact that this may have resulted from him interfering in the timeline. If this organization discovered his identity…"

Diana nodded slowly, leaning forward. "Okay, let's consider the facts. Deathstroke was hired to bomb the Gotham Royal Hotel, which he failed thanks to Jason." She shrugged. "On the other hand, that hotel was filled with nothing but politicians and Gotham City's one percent—the latter of which Jason falls into. This organization could just be targeting the rich, and hiring someone else to do their dirty work seems to be their MO."

"My gut says it's not that simple," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"Okay, then answer me this: why would someone target Jason specifically? He hasn't been in the news much, as himself or the Knight; the cases he's handled have barely rated an evening bulletin, or at least _his_ roles in them. If someone does have a fixation on him, I can't see why."

Bruce scowled at the monitor and steepled his fingers. "Neither can I, but I can't shake the feeling that we're looking at a slow-motion train wreck."

Diana pushed herself off the desk and embraced him from behind, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Come on; we're not gonna learn anything more tonight. You've done enough for now."

He sighed and ran a hand through his cowl-frizzed hair. "It won't be enough until I'm sure he's safe."

"I know, but you can't protect anyone if you're not rested." She half-dragged him from the seat. "Now come on, you're taking a shower."

"I barely broke a sweat today," he complained.

"And I'm joining you."

"…you make a compelling case."

…

After a steaming shower (in more ways than one), Bruce was about to retire to bed when he got a call on his private cell from a blocked number. He rolled his eyes as he strode over to it in just a towel. There were only three people with the stones to call that phone at this time of night (or early morning—it was almost 5 AM) when they knew he wasn't out on patrol, and only one of them consistently blocked his number. Bruce clicked the control to pick up and put the phone to his ear.

"Need something, Drake?"

"…wow. Not even the pretense of pleasantries?" Caden didn't sound surprised, despite his irritated diction.

"It's been a long night," he sighed.

"Oh I'm aware. Saw it all on the news. Another run-of-the-mill kidnapping, eh? Well, now Jason's _really_ part of the family."

Bruce scowled, his tone mirroring his face. "Maybe not as run-of-the-mill as you think."

"…so…you gonna explain that, or—"

"Look, what do you want?"

Caden sighed. "The kid's been having trouble."

"Says who?"

"Says the fact that he was taken in the first place, _especially_ given who was with him at the time. And let's not even talk about that hole in his gut."

Bruce's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How did you know about that?"

He scoffed. "Bruce, please. Whatever I don't know, I find out; Tim and I have that in common. I also know that he hasn't taken too well to thoughts of going back in the field, and after that fiasco with Richard Dragon, it isn't hard to see why."

"You have an idea." It wasn't a question.

"Send him to Star City. Let him work with me for a bit."

"And what makes you think that he'll respond to you better than his own family?"

"That's the _point_ , Bruce. I think it's _because_ you're family that he's not recovering the way you'd like. I know how hard you push your people, but in recent years, especially since meeting Diana, you've had a much gentler hand—which is a good thing. However, in this case, I'm afraid you and her might be… _too_ gentle."

"And you know this from what, the total of zero minutes you've interacted with him?"

Drake's tone darkened. "I know vengeance, Bruce. We both do. And I think we both know that he came to this time for revenge as much as he did to save you two. Weeks of inaction don't sit well with any Bat I've ever seen, especially given how hell-bent he was on accomplishing his mission to begin with. If he's stayed out of the field for over a month, then he's afraid of something."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious."

"Bruce," he sighed, "we both know how stubborn Waynes can be. If he's set on remaining in his fear—like we both know _you_ used to be—it's going to take an act of God or a really hard knock to get his head back on straight." Bruce could hear the smirk in his voice. "In your case, you got both."

Bruce frowned and rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of his wife sending him impatient looks while shedding the few layers of clothing she still had on. He turned away sharply to stay focused. "We decided we'd talk about it in the morning; I'll bring it up to him then. If he likes it, then I'll book him the first private flight to Star City."

"Great. Do let me know one way or the other," he added.

Bruce frowned at the strange tone in his voice, like pained hesitation. "There's something else to this, isn't there?"

A sigh. "It wouldn't be me if there wasn't. From what I've heard, he reminds me of Tim when he first became Robin: eager to please and entirely too headstrong. You remember what happened the first time he really, _really_ lost?"

Bruce couldn't keep himself from grimacing. Oh yes, he remembered all right. Jason Todd had come back from the dead to find a new kid in his old spot and been none too happy about it, so he bombed Titans Tower and cornered Tim in a one-on-one fight before beating him so badly he couldn't walk properly for weeks. Couldn't think properly for even longer.

As one of Diana's favorite movie characters would say: "Full physical recovery, six weeks. Full psychological recovery, six months."

And back then, Tim had needed a hand other than Bruce's too, so maybe his older cousin's idea wasn't as harebrained as he'd originally thought. In fact, it was Caden himself who had snapped Tim out of his funk.

With a sigh, Bruce answered, "Yes, I remember. I'll bring it up to him, but I make no promises."

"That's all I ask. Thanks, Bruce. And get some rest; you look tired."

Bruce's eyes widened as his gaze shot to one of the nearby windows, which was in full view of him, but thankfully not his wife—who was completely naked and steadily crawling across the bed toward him despite him being all the way by the door.

He still growled into the phone, "I'd stop peeping before you see something that can't be unseen…and then I'll have to kill you."

There was a hard cough from the other end. "Fair enough."

"Do I even _want_ to know what you're doing in Gotham?"

"Probably not, no," he answered with a nervous chuckle. "Ciao."

And with that, the line clicked off and Bruce tossed the phone in favor of tackling Diana into a row of pillows. She giggled at him until he growled playfully and made sure she changed her tune to something a bit huskier.

…

Come morning—or early afternoon, actually—Jason stepped out of his room bleary-eyed and disheveled. Well, more so than usual. Without his powers regulating the amount of sleep he needed, he was definitely _not_ a morning person. Add to that the fact that he'd texted Lindsey about Kara and the kidnapping (using his cover story of course) for three hours after he got back, and sleep deprived would be putting it mildly. To be fair, a lot of that was trying to put the girl at ease about his condition. Lindsey had been texting him non-stop since the kidnapping hit the news, and when the situation was resolved, that only intensified.

The only reason he hadn't noticed until he was home was the very distracting kiss that he couldn't stop thinking about if he tried. Jason hadn't reached out to Kara just yet, wanting things to settle a bit before touching that particularly embarrassing can of worms. Not that he was embarrassed that she kissed him. Well…maybe a little, given the context and company, but more embarrassing was his reaction. Given how suave and collected he'd tried to project himself back in Metropolis, the whole fish-out-of-water response was a bit…humiliating. But then, he supposed that had been the whole point. And he'd take pleasantly embarrassed over depressed any day.

Which, _again_ , had been the whole point.

 _Dear God, that girl…_

Jason shook his head hard as he put on a robe and padded downstairs to the kitchen, where his parents were speaking in low tones that always meant something gross was afoot. When he caught sight of them, the proximity of their faces was the first thing he noticed. The second was Bruce's hand, conspicuously placed on Diana's belly, where Jason hadn't noticed the small baby bump. To be fair, he hardly saw her in anything remotely form-fitting except her armor, and he'd been out of the field for too long to really catch sight of any differences. He gave her exposed belly a long look before huffing and shaking his head.

"You know," Jason said as he retrieved some OJ from the fridge, "Damian may have been inappropriate about it, but he was right about one thing." He poured himself a glass mid-thought. "It is _really_ weird to think there's a younger version of myself only a few steps away."

Diana smiled at him. "Think of it as a promise of great things to come."

Jason huffed and grinned. "Always finding the silver lining."

Bruce snorted as he pressed a kiss to the bump. "She wouldn't have married _me_ otherwise."

Jason frowned and pouted as he observed them with narrowed eyes. "Strange how I never heard anything about Mom having morning sickness."

Diana shrugged. "To be honest, I barely felt it, and certainly not enough to make a scene." She smiled ruefully. "Benefits of being a demigod, I suppose."

"Huh. I guess that's why I never got carsick as a kid. Now, food poisoning, on the other hand, _that_ was a thing." He scratched his chin in thought. "And I could probably count the number of times I got _really_ sick on one hand. Most of them were when I was…" his eyes darkened, "uh…never mind."

They both frowned at that, exchanging another telepathic look.

Bruce spoke up a second later. "Speaking of your headspace, we said we'd discuss getting you back in the field today."

Jason sighed. "So we did."

"And?" Diana asked. "How do you feel?"

His lips pursed tightly. "Sloppy. Though, I've kinda been sloppy the whole time I was here, from the very first night. It's just that before, I had my powers to pick up the slack, and now that I don't…" he sighed, "it's like swinging on a trapeze without a safety net." He snorted without humor. "And we _all_ know how wrong _that_ can go."

Bruce frowned at the comparison, but apparently found it apt with a nod. "To that end, Di and I have talked it over and decided that maybe this time, you need a…different hand."

Jason blinked. "I don't follow."

"What would you say to training with Green Arrow?"

His eyebrows shot skyward. "Green Arrow? Like, now?" He blinked and looked up in thought. "Wait—it's early December, 2017, so…Ollie's still in jail, which means the _current_ Green Arrow is…" his eyes lit up as they met Bruce's, " _ooh_ —extended family?"

Bruce barely restrained an eye-roll. "I suppose you could say that."

"He called Bruce with the offer last night, completely out of the blue," Diana said.

"Is that…unusual?" Jason asked.

"Not for him. He did the same thing with Tim a few years back." She frowned with a small groan. "And with Damian after Ra's was killed."

Jason arched an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that didn't go over too well."

Bruce's arms crossed. "Considering Caden was the one who stabbed his grandfather and left him for dead in an exploding oil rig, no, not so much."

"But he can't have felt _too_ bad about that. I mean, Talia _and_ Ra's just used him as their pawn."

"Intellectually, he knew that," Diana said, "but emotionally…" a sigh, "let's just say he had some frustration to work out and Caden gave him the opportunity he needed." She smiled warmly. "We're hoping he can do the same for you."

Jason blinked and nodded slowly, thinking it over. He shrugged after less than ten seconds. "When do I leave?"

…

It was well past nightfall when Jason arrived in Star City. The flight over was used for a nap; apparently nine hours wasn't quite enough to recover from the previous night's ordeals. As he approached the address he was given, he realized he'd need every scrap of strength he could get. The place was a large, run-down warehouse that was littered with trash and graffiti. He knew better than to judge it by the outside. Approaching the main door, a rusted-over thing that was barely hanging on its hinges, his eyes darted to the side when he caught a glimpse of a shadow on the roof in his peripheral vision.

Smirking, he pushed through the door and stepped into the musty, run-down space. He took a deep breath before proceeding further inward, looking around the massive, empty space, and hearing a faint _puff_ behind and above him. An even fainter metallic grind filled the air came from the same spot, followed shortly by a gruff, distorted voice.

"Walking into a place uninvited is a _great_ way to get yourself killed if you don't watch your back."

Jason smiled, hands in his pockets as he slowly turned toward the source of the voice. "I saw you climb in through the skylight on my way in." He shrugged. "Figured you'd be in the rafters somewhere." He gave the shadowy figure a nod, the faint streetlight seeping in from the door casting him in a ghostly silhouette. "Green Arrow, I presume?"

The metallic grind returned as he relaxed his bow and returned the arrow to the quiver on his back. He leapt from the rafter a moment later, landing in a crouch and flicking a switch on the side of the bow that sent it collapsing into itself. He clipped it to the back of his belt as he approached Jason, the closer proximity showing more of his suit's detail. The man was clad head to toe in forest green Kevlar, including a long hood that cast his features in deep shadow. His legs were adorned with calf-high combat boots outer-plated with trauma plates arranged around the shins and joints.

His arms were the same way, with slim gauntlets plated around the knuckles and forearms. The vest was composed primarily of Kevlar, with several more interlocking plates laid over his rib cage and internal organs. The supplemental armor was finished off with a codpiece and contoured pauldrons that collectively gave him the look of a medieval archer. Under the hood was a mask over his eyes and the top of his head, barely visible in the shadows, which combined to completely conceal his identity. The faint glint of his eyes was visible in the reflection of the streetlights off the broken glass in the room.

Slowly, as he approached arm's reach of Jason, a faint smile rose to his lips, and he reached up to pull back the hood and mask, revealing a heavily tanned, youthful complexion. His eyes were so dark they were practically black in the darkness of the warehouse, and behind them, Jason could _feel_ the intelligence in his gaze. He stretched out his hand in greeting.

"Caden Christophe Drake." He smiled wider when Jason gripped his hand. "Welcome to Star City."

…

Ten minutes later, Jason felt his jaw drop to the floor and stay there. Immediately after introductions were made, Caden had ushered him onto a bike he'd stashed nearby and driven through a tangled mess of streets, presumably to avoid catching a tail, before coasting into an underground garage. He'd escorted Jason through the nearly pitch-dark structure to an elevator, which moved _up_ , not down, for a short while before the doors slid open to reveal—a lavish penthouse suite with a three-story-high ceiling and a view overlooking the whole of Star City.

"Hooooly crap," Jason exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Way to stay under the radar," he added sarcastically.

Caden chuckled and tossed his jacket onto a hook in a nearby room, disappearing inside and out of sight for a while. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

Jason sighed and shrugged. "Touché."

He reappeared moments later in gray cargo pants and a blue tee, running a hand through his tousled black hair. "How was the trip over?"

"Quiet, boring. I took a nap."

"Good," he answered quickly. "You'll need every scrap of energy you've got."

"I figured as much," Jason said with a frown.

"Did you figure that from my reputation or history?"

Jason's lips pursed. "Bit of both. Date of birth unknown, place of origin unknown, blood type unknown. List of aliases a mile long and a list of accomplishments even longer—including the dismantling of the worldwide terror network known as Keystone—and that's the ones we _know_ about." His blue eyes narrowed. "And _then_ there's the Faceless Protocol…" he motioned to the adjacent room, where Caden had stashed his Arrow gear, "which is currently ongoing."

Caden stared at him for a long ten seconds before grunting. "Well…good on you for doing your research."

"It helps when I have a record of the next sixteen years to draw from."

"True. Though I hope you keep that thing under strict lock and key. Last thing we need is a _Back to the Future_ situation."

Jason blinked and shook his head. "A what?"

Caden stared at him in disbelief. "Dear goodness, what _do_ you watch in the future?" He waved dismissively and made his way toward a door at the edge of the open atrium that served as the entrance. "Anyway, we'd best get straight to work. I know I opened my doors, but I'm a busy man and in need of a partner tonight. Just need to make sure you're up to snuff first."

He trailed behind the older man with a small frown. In 2033, Caden Drake was _way_ off-grid, though they had met several times while Jason was growing up. Truth was, he knew him mainly through the records he'd amassed on the past, and even then only faintly. The man was anal retentive about keeping his affairs secret. One thing of note he had managed to dig up was the aforementioned Faceless Protocol, a term Drake coined immediately following the foundation of the Justice League.

Despite being a critical part of Earth's defense against the alien force that had brought the founders together, Caden rejected their offer of membership when they founded the League, and they all knew why. Caden Drake was a man with his own code and even fewer lines than Batman, and that wasn't what the Justice League needed. On the other hand, he certainly wasn't about to let them come to harm, especially given his longstanding connection to the Arrow and Bat Families. Thus, the Faceless Protocol was born in secret, a plan to use his many talents to mimic the diction, suit, MO, and fighting style of any non-powered hero should their identity ever be at risk of exposure.

There had only been two confirmed uses over the years, first enacted the night of Bruce's proposal to Diana, when Scarecrow had captured Red Robin and forced Batman to reveal his identity on live TV. Caden locked him in one of his own cells and donned a duplicate Batsuit, mimicking his voice and mannerisms and revealing his own face—which was completely meaningless to the public—as the Batman. Other than burning one of his aliases and going off the grid for six months while Oracle wiped all traces of his face from the web, there was no lasting damage to him, and certainly none to Bruce. It had worked beautifully, though Bruce certainly hadn't appreciated getting clocked over the head to keep him from doing something stupid.

The second use in history was where Jason found himself now: Star City, post-FBI occupation following the complete takeover of the city's municipal authorities by Richard Dragon and his syndicate of operatives. Over the course of a year, the Dragon had manipulated, bought, and bullied his way to the top of the food chain, all the while discrediting and vilifying Green Arrow _and_ Oliver Queen to consolidate power. Ultimately, he manipulated Star City's legislature into passing strict anti-vigilante laws that made every masked hero an outlaw, then outed Oliver's secret identity to the world.

Ultimately, that landed Ollie in a supermax prison where he was still rotting, separated from Connor and Dinah, who was forced to stay out of the hero game to avoid the same fate. To be perfectly honest, Connor had needed her to get through being separated from his dad, which was why when Oliver sent an old ally to offer Caden a job as the new Green Arrow, he immediately accepted. Since his debut a month before Bruce and Diana's wedding, Green Arrow had singlehandedly made Richard Dragon's operations in Star City an even worse hell than trying to work around the FBI task force that had been assigned to take him down.

Since the identity of the original Green Arrow was already known, it wasn't quite the original purpose of the Faceless Protocol, but it had also given Caden the opportunity to make the role his own, made obvious by the extensive changes to the suit and his base of operations. His superior strength and brain-body connection lent itself to an up-armored uniform with a bit more weight and significantly more protection. Whereas Ollie had preferred dark, out-of-the-way hideouts, Caden had a bird's-eye view of the city. The one thing he hadn't changed was Oliver's MO. Though he certainly wasn't above killing—his known kill count actually ranked in the _hundreds_ —there hadn't yet been a single fatality since he'd taken over as GA.

Jason supposed he felt some need for fidelity to the original man and the ideology he symbolized. And he had fallen into his new role _beautifully_. Being genetically engineered to be physically and mentally _perfect_ , knowing every fighting style on the planet, and being well-versed in the use of every weapon known to man probably helped.

Which made Jason extremely nervous as he entered the room Caden had led him into, which was basically one giant sparring ring with three pyramid-arranged levels connected by stairs, cables, and box-like structures that could be climbed on. Weapons were strewn along the walls, from guns to swords to the common switchblade, and _all_ of them looked real. In terms of sheer deadly force, this room almost made the Batcave's armory look like a utility closet. Caden didn't move toward any of the weapons, so neither did Jason as he took off his jacket and tossed it aside.

Drake turned to face him when he was on the opposite side of the room some thirty feet away, fluorescent lights casting shadows over his eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back and his expression hard when he opened his mouth.

"Hit me…if you can."

Jason arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're pulling a _Matrix_ on me?"

Caden's face went completely deadpan. "So you've seen _The Matrix_ , but not _Back to the Future_?"

" _Duh_ ," he snorted. " _The Matrix_ is a _classic_."

The deadpan look turned to a glare. "And _Back to the Future_ isn't?"

Jason's lips quirked with amusement that quickly vanished when he took a deep breath and fell into a deep stance. Caden still hadn't moved from his relaxed posture. Exhaling slowly, Jason clenched his hands into fists, then charged at him head-on, sliding to a halt some six feet off after feinting with a right cross. His stop was quickly followed by a spinning trip-kick that Caden withdrew from with a calm step. He still hadn't moved his arms. Rolling his eyes, Jason came at him with a barrage of jabs, testing his defenses and finding his light blows effortlessly slapped away with one hand.

After a particularly hard punch was palmed by Caden, Jason lunged forward with a knee and found his leg caught in the man's other hand. Those two points of contact were used to take Jason to the ground, and in seconds, he was pinned with his right arm twisted painfully behind his back. He tapped out a moment later. Caden sighed hard and released him, letting him get up and dust himself off.

"I knew you had issues, kid," Drake said, "but this…this is just pathetic."

Jason scowled. "Insulting me isn't going to help."

A sigh. "I apologize. I haven't seen a performance this bad in years."

His eyes rolled. "Let's go again."

"If you insist."

Jason swung before he even finished talking, getting a slap to the face for his troubles and pissed off as a result. The cheeky bastard wasn't even dignifying him with a closed fist. Feeling his blood get up, Jason unleashed a series of rapid kicks aimed at Caden's joints and ribs, too fast for him to grab. Instead, Drake withdrew with each block, waiting for an opening that he got when Jason threw a 360 roundhouse at his head. Caden ducked and lunged for his rear leg, flipping him right over his head and landing him on his back. Unwilling to get pinned again, Jason scrambled to his feet, finding himself laid out again when Caden thrust-kicked him across the floor.

"You're too rigid, too proper."

Jason scowled and shoulder-tackled him, an ineffective move since Caden braced for it with his arms around Jason's midsection.

"This is a _fight_ , man, not a dance!"

Caden kneed him in the chest, a blow he took in order to grab the leg and attempt to throw him to the ground. Caden literally rolled with it and used the momentum to throw him off. Jason quickly rolled to his feet and lunged with a snap-kick to the shoulder. Caden twisted around it and sent an elbow at his face, which he caught and pushed back only to find himself gasping for air when Caden nailed him in the gut with a ground-kick. The wind was completely knocked out of him, and he was sent tumbling across the floor, half-curled into a fetal position. And he could _feel_ that Caden was holding back.

"Get up."

Jason gasped and coughed for air, clawing his way to his knees.

"Get up!" Caden nailed Jason in the lower ribs with a sharp kick that sent him rolling away. "You think you can protect them fighting like _this_?"

"W-Who?"

Drake sneered. "Who do you think? You came back here for them, didn't you?" He threw a punch that impacted Jason's hastily erected guard. "You could've stayed in the future, moved on, but you didn't. You came all this way, risking _unquantifiable_ damage to the timeline, yet now, when you hit your first real obstacle, you're giving up? _Pathetic_."

Jason's teeth gritted as he slapped aside another incoming blow and lunged at him with two shots directed at his face followed by a low body shot. Caden deflected all of it with ease and countered with a palm to the chest that sent him back a couple steps.

"I'm not giving up," Jason snarled. "I never will."

"Then stop _acting_ like it."

They shot punches in rapid-fire back and forth, Jason taking a few hits but managing to dampen most of the impact by turning with each shot. Finally, he found an opening when Caden came in for a wide swing and ducked under the hook with an uppercut to the lower ribs. He put everything into his swing, and was rewarded when Drake gasped and flinched in pain, stumbling a step to the side. Jason immediately followed it up with a hook to the jaw and a knife-hand to the neck. The latter was caught by Caden and used to throw him over his shoulder, the arm held and used as leverage when he trapped it between his legs in an attempt to dislocate his shoulder.

Jason quickly grabbed his trapped hand and pulled hard, finding himself at a standstill and unable to slip free. Thinking quickly, he bit Caden's leg hard, almost enough to break the skin through his pants. The slack around his right arm gave him the opportunity to break out, which he took and spun into a crouch opposite Caden, who did the same. Jason pivoted his hips, one hand planted on the ground to keep balance when his rear leg swung for Caden's face in a crouching Capoeira kick. Drake snapped his head back just in time for it to miss, leaning back on his hands and pushing himself back up when the danger was past.

He tackled the kid to the ground, one arm around his neck though Jason managed to backpedal in a crouch, shoving Caden back against one of the boxes. The grip around his neck tightened, blood rushing to his head as he struggled and got a double-handed grip on the arm cutting off his circulation. He was still getting more lightheaded by the second.

"And what about that girlfriend of yours?"

Jason's eyes widened. "H-How—"

"I watch the news, and I'd know that blonde hair anywhere." Caden tightened his grip. "Yet if she was lying in a pool of blood, with a Kryptonite spike in her chest, slowly leaking fluid into her chest, collapsing her lungs—"

Jason's grip on his arm tightened and strained.

"—you wouldn't do a damn thing." Caden grunted, hoisting Jason's feet off the ground just slightly. "Because you'd already given up, with just enough life to watch her die."

Jason's jaw clenched as a growl broke free and he snapped his hips downward just enough to find purchase on the ground. He used that point of contact to move around, turn them to get within reach of another box and run across it to increase his speed of rotation, spinning his body faster than Caden could compensate. His grip around Caden's arm was used not to free himself, but use his spinning momentum to throw Drake across the room. Despite his dizziness, Jason didn't let up for a second, immediately launching forward into a series of snap-kicks that Caden had to guard from a crouch.

Drake withdrew toward the stairs leading up the pyramid, Jason's attacks driving him back step by step. Caden caught a left cross and tried to pull him into a headbutt. Jason palmed his forehead to stop him, then grabbed his hair painfully and scowled as he returned a headbutt to the bridge of Caden's nose. Hook after hook pounded Drake's defenses, followed by a knee, then a kick from the opposite side. Jason's stamina was unyielding, his attacks relentless, and Caden found no gap in his defenses to expose. In this particular case, the best defense for Jason _was_ a good offense.

Caden withdrew across the second floor of the suspended pyramid, pursued with a flying kick that he redirected, forcing Jason to roll onto his feet and whirl toward Drake's lunging counterattack. They grappled for a moment before Caden shifted his leg behind Jason's and hip-threw him to the ground. He didn't anticipate that Jason would snap both legs up and wrap his neck and shoulder in a triangle choke. Drake used his trapped arm to grip the collar of Jason's shirt, same with his left, and flexed his back muscles to lift him up and slam him back-first against one of the boxes.

He refused to let go, tightened his grip in fact. Caden tried to jab Jason in the face and neck, but couldn't reach when Jason extended his legs and back. Drake held him in place, took a shaky breath, and brought his knee up into Jason's hip hard. Jason's jaw clenched, but he released Caden in favor of dropping to the ground and kicking one of his legs out to force him onto one knee. A repeated attempt of his Capoeira kick nailed Caden in the jaw this time, followed quickly by a ground-kick to the chest that sent him sliding across the floor, almost off the edge. Caden scrambled to his feet and tic-tacked off one of the boxes to the topmost floor, climbing up as Jason sprinted up the stairs.

He opened with a flying right cross at Caden's head, slapped aside and countered with a body blow that forced Jason to reorganize his strategy. A quick one-two to the face distracted Caden from a push-kick to the hip that was caught and used to counter with a cross to the head. Jason felt his brain rattle around, and his vision blurred just enough to prevent him from seeing the incoming high kick until it was almost too late. He managed to snap his hand up and catch the sole of Caden's boot at full extension, seeing his dark brown eyes widen a moment before his rear leg was kicked out and the leg in Jason's grip twisted at an odd angle.

Caden managed to twist his body and kick Jason in the side of the head with his other leg, freeing himself, but the kid quickly adapted and knife-handed him in the side of the neck. The blow stunned him just enough to nail him in the face with a right cross and drive a hammer-fist into the side of his right knee, forcing Caden to kneel. A flying back-kick flew into Caden's chest with a cry of fury, laying him out flat and knocking the wind out of him. A second later, Jason had a hand around his throat while a fist hovered at the ready to commence a beatdown.

Caden's grin mid-cough stayed his hand just long enough for him to start laughing. " _There_ it is. Finally."

Jason blinked hard. "There _what_ is?" he asked suspiciously.

"The missing piece," Caden answered with another cough as he slowly hoisted himself upright. He stretched out and rolled his neck around. "That's all I needed to see."

He was still confused. " _What_? I don't get it? Were you _trying_ to piss me off?"

"Well, yes, but there's a bit more to it than that."

"Meaning what?" Jason asked with a scowl, crossing his arms.

Caden frowned at him, tilting his head a bit. "Hmm…you really don't get it?"

His lips pursed tightly. "I get that I got angry enough to bridge the gap in strength."

Drake's frown deepened. "Whoa, you really _don't_ get it." His head shook slowly. "It wasn't anger that carried you through. Well, not _just_ anger, or even primarily anger."

Jason blinked hard. "What then?"

His lips twitched with an enigmatic smile, the running of his mind clear behind his eyes. "I have a feeling you'll understand by tonight's end."

And with that, Drake made his way down the stairs with a confused Jason in tow.

"Grab your suit," said Caden, "but don't put it on just yet. We have a little recon to do before we get to the main event."

Jason frowned and nodded as he grabbed the duffel he'd brought with him. Caden vanished into the room where he'd ditched his Arrow suit, toting a bag of his own along with a black leather jacket with padded joints that came down to his hip. A telltale bulge under the lower-right flap of the jacket told Jason he was armed.

He nodded to Caden. "Where's _my_ piece?"

Drake's head shook. "You're not getting one."

"Seriously?"

"Your father, mother, and siblings don't need guns—with the exception of the _other_ Jason, who just _likes_ them—and neither do you." Caden frowned as they stepped into the elevator. " _Any_ given tool can become a crutch if you rely on it too much."

Jason waved at the other man's hip. "Pot calling the kettle black much?"

He smirked. "This is just in case we run into trouble before the main event. Once the suit goes on, the gun comes off."

Jason huffed and frowned at the elevator doors, knowing he wasn't going to budge on this one.

"Besides, I think you'll find tonight's activities _much_ more enjoyable if you engage in them up close."

He arched an eyebrow at Caden's smiling face. "You're not entirely sane, are you?"

His smile only widened.

…

[Hey.]

[Hey! How are you feeling?]

[Good. Only a couple bumps and bruises from last night, and most of them are already healing. I guess I'm still a little faster than the average human, even without my powers.]

[* _Kara is typing…_ *]

"You texting your girlfriend?"

Jason frowned and rolled his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes." He snorted, casting a look at Caden's shadowed profile. "Why? You gonna scold me for being distracted?"

He smiled and raised a small thermal scope to his eyes. "On the contrary, that kind of distraction is exactly what you need before a big job." He lowered the scope to meet Jason's gaze. "Because it's not so much a distraction as something to look forward to when the job's done."

Jason blinked.

Caden's lips pursed. "And that motivation can be just as important in getting you home as gathering adequate intel. _More_ so, even."

He nodded slowly as Caden turned back to the large warehouse complex they were currently overlooking. Jason looked down to check his phone, finding another message from Kara.

[From what I hear, your dad is pretty similar, and Di's, well…Di, so I'm not surprised.]

A smile twitched Jason's lips as he clicked off a quick response. [So…are we gonna talk about what happened *after* that whole fiasco?]

[* _Kara is typing…_ *]

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Jason said.

Caden glanced his way. "Well…in a manner of speaking, I am." He smirked. "Who do you think set your parents up in the first place?"

Jason's eyes widened dramatically. "T-That was _you_?"

He shrugged. "Well, not _all_ me, but with the way Bruce was before they finally got together, did you really think that happened on its own?"

"Well, no, but…I always figured Alfred had a pretty big hand in that."

"Oh, he did. But I crashed a party where they met in their civilian guises before she even knew who he was and _immediately_ saw the chemistry. Still, didn't think anything of it until my kid cousin reached out to me out of the blue and practically _begged_ me to help them out."

"Wait, Tim was in on it too?"

Caden chuckled. "Oh yeah. Practically the whole _family_ was in on it, with the exception of Damian, who didn't want anyone meddling thanks to the giant stick up his ass."

Jason snickered but didn't deny it.

"Anyway, a couple months, a half-dozen dates, and a citywide crisis later, and…the rest is history."

"Huh."

He stared at Caden for a second before frowning at the area below. They were perched on a rooftop of a skyscraper at the edge of Star City's old industrial district, where they were observing a warehouse some twenty stories below. The complex was abuzz with activity, with numerous cars and trucks moving in and out despite it being almost midnight. Jason's lips pursed as he tapped the ring around his neck that contained his cowl and deployed it to give him access to the cowl's enhanced vision. Taking a closer look and switching to thermal, he spotted no less than forty warm spots inside, plus a few bigger ones that were likely vehicles.

According to Caden, this specific warehouse was a shipping hub for some of Richard Dragon's more lucrative exports and imports, whether that was drugs, guns, or—as it appeared tonight based on the pattern of bodies and movement—people. Drake had been angling to topple this particular trafficking ring for weeks, but without a partner to back him up, the risks of getting the prisoners hurt or killed increased exponentially.

Jason's phone vibrated with another message.

[Well, I think I made my intentions pretty clear, and since you were the one who asked me out in the first place, I think I know yours. Wait, you did find the note I left, right? Because if you didn't then I totally understand if you're confused about what that kiss meant and I want to make it clear that I really like you and now I'm rambling because hormones and nerves so sorry about that. :S]

He vainly held back a laugh, looking up to see Caden staring through the scope with his lips pursed.

"What are we waiting for?" Jason asked. "The guards to thin out?"

"Not quite. The only time they vacate the premises is when their shipment's gone out for the night, which should be happening pretty soon if they stick to their schedule. The problem is, they send the 'cargo' out along with several dummy trucks, all of which are thermally shielded and soundproofed to prevent external detection." He frowned at Jason, waving the scope at the warehouse. "If we really want to dismantle this operation, we need to trace the real shipment to its destination. If we spring the prisoners from there, then Diaz is gonna realize his outbound port is compromised and have to shut it down." He shrugged. "Now, it isn't gonna stay inoperable forever, but finding a space secluded and secure enough to run contraband with the FBI watching properties around the city like a hawk is gonna force him to take his time—"

"Which'll cut his revenue stream down considerably," Jason posited.

Caden snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Exactly." He turned back to the warehouse and looked through his scope. "Now, ordinarily all we'd have to do is stakeout the trucks until we see one being loaded, but with it being winter and all, the excess heat in the building plus the bits leaking off the trucks is going to make that difficult."

"So we'll need to take a closer look."

His head shook with a frown. "Security around the building, even roof access, is too tight for us to get in undetected. Trust me, I've tried. We'll need to wait for them to leave."

"But you said—"

"I said the _trucks_ made detection impossible, but the warehouse itself will have traces of heavy movement left behind. All we need to do is mark each truck with a tracker as they're exiting and remember where they were parked, then check the area to see where the most traffic was. Once we know that and match the location to the corresponding truck, we can see where it ends up and swoop in to the rescue." Caden grinned. "Easy."

Jason deadpanned. "Why did you say that?"

"Say what?" he asked innocently.

He groaned. "You _know_ you just jinxed us, right?"

Drake's grin widened. "That's what makes it _fun_."

Jason's eyes rolled. He was right; this man _was_ insane.

Caden lifted the scope to his eye again, adjusting a dial on its body, then reaching into the duffel at his side to pull out a box with magnetic GPS trackers the size of dimes.

Jason frowned in thought and asked curiously, "So where do you get all your tech? I know Green Arrow uses Helix Dynamics."

Caden's upbeat mood immediately vanished with a scowl. "Correction, _Oliver Queen_ uses Helix Dynamics. Green Arrow, meaning _me_ , does not."

He blinked at the man's harsh tone. "O…kay? Why's that?"

His jaw tightened visibly. "I don't trust their CEO."

"I'm…guessing you two have some history?"

Caden smiled sardonically. "Yeah, you could say that. Although it's more what she did to _Ollie_ than anything that happened between us."

Jason fixed him with an expectant look.

Caden sighed, his face falling and making him look like he'd rather talk about anything else. Still, he spoke. "This was years ago, before Ollie and Dinah got married—hell, before they'd even gotten back together. She and Ollie were an item back then, engaged, as point of fact. Everything was…great, for the most part." His expression changed, his eyes suddenly a thousand miles away. "And then she discovered a secret he'd kept from her, one that wasn't hers to know in the first place."

"What's that?"

Caden took a deep breath, hints of pain crinkling the skin around his eyes. "He had a kid with someone else." He cleared his throat. "This had happened _years_ before they'd gotten together, long before he'd even become Green Arrow. Oliver didn't even know he _existed_ until a couple months before she found out." He sighed. "And when he did, the kid's mom forced him to keep their relation a secret from _everyone_."

Jason stared at him. "That's…not really surprising, to be honest."

Caden shook his head. "No, no it isn't. Especially given how much of a douche he was before he was shipwrecked." A sigh. "But…he agreed and kept Will's existence from his fiancé—and from the kid too."

"So how did she find out?"

He winced. "Someone bad discovered William's existence and kidnapped him."

" _Oh_. Far as circumstances go, I'm not sure you can get much worse than that."

"Yeah," he agreed, "and she was pissed about it." His eyes darkened. "But that was just the beginning." He took a long breath. "The kidnapper tried to force Oliver to back out of Star City's mayoral race by using William as leverage, and it would've worked too."

"But?"

Caden smiled with a pained look in his eyes. "But the kid was smart like his dad and entirely too precocious for an eleven-year-old. Somewhere in the months they'd known each other, he figured out Ollie was his dad, and when he found out the people holding him were trying to leverage him into giving up…" He grimaced, shaking his head. "You gotta understand, this was a kid who'd grown up on stories of Superman, the Flash… _and_ Green Arrow. He understood that evil could be given no quarter, no opportunity, or it would grow to unstoppable proportions." He sighed hard. "So…during a video call, when Oliver was being given proof of life, he made a move."

Jason paled as he braced himself.

Caden's head shook slowly. "They didn't even bother restraining him. I mean, the kid was just eleven and surrounded by armed guards, so what was he really gonna do?" His eyes slipped closed briefly as his voice shook. "Well…when they weren't looking, he grabbed one of their guns and made a break for it—" he smiled sadly, "—lots of action movies and they were using Glocks—no safety." His smile vanished as he stared into the night. "The bastard in charge took his head off right there and then."

Jason shut his eyes tightly, chest aching.

"Right…right in front of Oliver." He huffed. "Needless to say, he didn't back down. Six months later, Green Arrow sent the bastard to hell on live television."

"I…" Jason frowned and tightened his jaw, "can imagine what he must've felt."

"Yeah," Caden acknowledged.

"So…how did the fiancé tie into all that?"

Drake smiled nastily. "A week after Will was killed, she left him."

Jason gaped, eyes narrowed furiously. "Are you _serious_?"

"Deadly. I had about the same reaction as you. Ollie…Ollie was just _crushed_."

"How does that make _any_ kind of sense?" Jason half-yelled. "I mean—getting pissed at having a huge secret like that kept from you is one thing, but…I _get_ it. Family comes first, and Oliver wanted a part of his son's life."

"Which is _exactly_ what Dinah told him, despite the fact that Will actually came out of him _cheating_ on her."

Jason blinked hard. "That's…awfully gracious of her."

Caden shrugged. "It's like I said, he was a douche back then, and she knew it." His head shook slowly. "She couldn't hold something against him that was done by a completely different person." His sardonic smile returned. "Now, the _bitch_ , on the other hand, showed her true colors as a result. That was the day I cut her off." He took a deep, calming breath, visibly pushing the memories away and smiling fakely. "So, all that to say that no, I don't use Helix's tech. Whatever I can't make myself, I outsource to people I can actually _trust_ , like WayneTech."

Jason sighed and shook his head, looking away as his mind ran. He huffed, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when something occurred to him. "Now I kinda feel like an ass for even _suggesting_ that Babs look into their product line."

Caden looked at him. "You mean for the spinal implants?"

He nodded.

Drake tilted his head thoughtfully. "No, she should definitely do it. They _work_." He smirked malevolently. "The bitch would know."

Jason frowned. "Why's that?"

His jaw clenched. "Because she used the goddamn prototype to _literally_ walk out of Oliver's life."

Jason looked away and cleared his throat. "Awkward."

"Yeah. Now, her leaving eventually forced Oliver to get over himself and propose to Dinah a few years later, but…no amount of silver lining can _ever_ excuse what she did." Caden sighed. "Ollie apparently made his peace with her, if he's still relying on her company for tech support, but…if she could do something like that to someone she supposedly _loved_ , how could I ever trust her to have my back? Truth is, if we ever worked together again, I'd probably end up killing her out of principle."

Jason's eyes widened. "Why?"

Caden's lips pursed tightly. "In my usual line of work, shaky trust is none at all." He met Jason's eyes. "Better the bullet you see coming than a knife in your back…and I'd rather be the one with the gun." He sighed and looked away. "Needless to say, for as long as I live and have _any_ other options, I have no intention of giving that woman a _cent_ of my hard-earned money…or anything else for that matter."

Jason sighed and shook his head. "Can't say I blame you."

"Hm." Caden's expression shifted, eyebrows knitted. "Hold up." He raised the thermal scope to his eye. "They're on the move. Get ready." He opened the box of trackers at his side and handed Jason a pair. "How's your throwing arm?"

Jason smirked. "Good as any Bat."

Caden reached into the duffel with a smile and pulled out two items, one of which expanded into his bow. The other was an arrow with a large knob near the head, and when he loosed it, it became apparent why. A thin, high-tensile cable shot from the bow, one end manually anchored to their rooftop while the other was stuck to the roof of the warehouse, where the loading bay and external doors were. Drake slung his duffel and hooked his bow around the cable, motioning for Jason to follow him as they both ziplined across.

Moments later, the roar of heavy engines split the night air as the doors opened and the pair touched down on the gravel of the rooftop. Four trackers were thrown with ease as the trucks zoomed out of the building, splitting off in separate directions as soon as they were clear of the complex. Five minutes passed before Jason's cowl sent out a passive sonar pulse, verifying that the Dragon's men had cleared out completely, leaving only dust and flotsam in their wake—and hopefully enough evidence to track down the shipment. With a wave, Caden motioned him over to a nearby skylight, which they used to enter the building and mount the rafters.

After double-checking that they were alone, they dropped down and gave the place a once-over for any obvious signs, finding none. Jason engaged his cowl's lenses and activated their forensic AR HUD, finding numerous signs of movement scattered across the warehouse, no set concentration detectable.

He frowned and shook his head. "It's no good. They're all over the place. I can't make out a pattern."

"Focus on where the trucks' rears would've been, and look for traces that are more recent."

"How?"

"Surprise me."

Jason sent him a sideways look before switching his lenses through several filters. "Caden, how often does Diaz mix up his shipments? The contents, I mean."

"Once a week or so. This should be the first night of human cargo. I already busted up his drug operation at _that_ end port, but I didn't get to the gun-runners until he'd already sent out a hefty load."

He blinked. "To Gotham?"

"That's right."

Jason cast him a suspicious look before returning his attention to the amalgam of evidence in front of him. "I'm trying to filter the footprints by how recently they were made, but the oils and trace elements are all over the place. I can't get an accurate date off."

"Hmm…check for traces of silicone and amorphous carbon and date those."

Jason blinked, the suggestion clicking into place. "Gun oil and soot—why? I thought they just stopped shipping guns out of here."

"They did, but there were bound to be some spills, and the mix of those two is almost impossible to get out of leather soles. A few of the crew handling the guns were bound to be working this shift. Find the most recent traces, and you'll find our truck."

Jason nodded and followed his advice, face lighting up in triumph a minute or two later. "Gotcha! Second from the left from where we were on the roof."

Caden pulled out a PDA with four GPS projections splitting the screen. "Second from left…that's the upper-right spot. Looks like they're headed to an old ironworks a couple miles from here." He put the device away and hoisted his duffel onto a nearby loading platform. "It's right next to the docks; perfect to split up and ship 'em out by water." He unzipped the bag and pulled it open, revealing his folded-up suit inside. Caden glanced at Jason, who did the same with his. "You ready, kid?"

Jason frowned at the helmet in his hands, his left hand drifting down to brush against the scar in his side. He turned to Caden a second later and nodded. "Let's do this."

…

The redundantly-named Irons' Ironworks was a defunct facility part of the Star City expansion of the company of the same name, one of several across the nation owned by John Henry Irons, AKA Justice League's Steel. As Caden recalled, this particular branch had gone under as a result of conflicting zoning agreements perpetuated by Richard Dragon's manipulations. Considering Steel's public identity and Diaz's open hatred of all things superheroes, it stood to reason that he'd gone to extreme lengths to oust any sign of them from what he considered "his" city.

But using it for a hub to traffic in human beings…

Drake's teeth gritted and ground in his steadily growing rage and disgust for that human stain.

His anger was quickly put in check as he pulled down his mask, making sure the Kevlar skullcap protecting his head was firmly in place, as well as his hood. His collapsible bow, a magnificent example of modern technology reinventing an ancient design, was made of interlaced carbon fiber with a variable-weight bowstring of the same material for varying range and armor penetration. The majority of his arrows were carbon impact based, with collapsible shafts that allowed them and their equally collapsible quiver to be concealed as travel gear if he ever needed them on the move.

As a byproduct of their compact design, roughly fifty arrows could fit into his quiver at any given time. Of the thirty-six standard arrows he had at any given time, six were dipped in a paralytic neurotoxin that would take effect within the space of a second, eliminating the opportunity of the target to raise an alarm. The fourteen remaining had various other uses ranging from direct destruction to crowd control and evasion. For this operation, he focused primarily on concealment and traversal.

For heavier-duty targets, especially vehicles and mechanized opponents, he had two nano-thermite arrows fitted with razor-fine tungsten carbide tips to ensure penetration. Two arrows were fitted with heads that dispensed an aerosol mist of conductive material over a limited area after impact, then released a burst of electricity that would chain through the mist to incapacitate anyone caught in the area of impact. Two more were long-range flashbang grenades, another two loaded with compressed tear gas. The final three arrows were fitted with high-tensile cables that could be used for vertical ascent, descent, or, as already seen that night, zip-lines.

On his belt and right hip sat various flechettes, many of which served the same specialized functions of his arrows. A few, however, were different, such as rapid-dispersal smoke and electronic interface for hacking into computer systems. If they were lucky, he wouldn't have to fire a single shot. But then, luck had never been his strong suit.

"Synchronize comms.," Caden said, tapping a few keys on the underside of his gauntlet, which connected to an adjacent flexible LCD interface.

Jason glanced at his gauntlet, matching his earpiece to Caden's frequency.

"What's your callsign?"

The kid glanced at him from behind the helmet, which made his eyes even harder to see than the cowl. "Knight."

Caden stared at him. "Seriously?"

"It's a work in progress," he answered, tone exasperated as if he'd had this conversation numerous times.

Caden smirked under his hood. "You should consider adding a prefix, or another word to it. Preferably _before_ Knight."

Jason's lips pursed. "Any ideas?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. The Knight part certainly addresses your heritage—on both sides, I should think. Make the other word more about _you_."

"For a man with so many aliases, I'd have thought you'd have a little more imagination."

"Well, it's not _my_ name." Caden frowned and tapped a hidden control on his collar. "Mic check. Check, check."

"Verified," Jason answered. "Ready to roll. What's the play?" His cowl's lenses snapped down. "I see at least three decent entrances that'll let us slip in undetected."

He raised his thermal scope to his eye, finding a large blip fairly quickly. "Found the truck. Based on the tracking data, they were here for about ten minutes before we arrived, so they might well have started moving the prisoners. We'll need to split up and track them down." He pointed at one of the entrances. "You take the skylight. I'll take the rear loading bay. If you find them, extract them to the north end of the complex; there's a lot more machinery there, more cover."

"You got it." Knight smiled and retracted his lenses, offering his fist. "Good hunting, Arrow."

Green Arrow smiled back and bumped his fist. "See you on the other side, kid."

The Knight drew his grapnel and fired it at one of the large smokestacks of the ironworks' main building, leaping from their nearby perch to swing in and land on the roof with a silent roll. Green Arrow drew one of his cable arrows and aimed past another smokestack on the other side of the building, loosing the missile and establishing a zipline between his roof and the factory. He slid in and landed on the far side of the roof with barely a whisper, crouching at the edge and checking for movement. His thermal scope was instrumental in acquiring leads on where they'd taken the prisoners, allowing him to spot something that gave him a hint on where to start.

"Be advised," he said over their radio link, "I see two long-range ships docked nearby."

"So if they split the prisoners, we'll be looking for two stash locations."

"Affirmative."

Green Arrow scanned his scope over the surrounding buildings, focused on those close to the docks, but a cursory scan revealed only token occupation, likely sentries already half-asleep. Checking the main building, on the other hand, revealed a cornucopia of warm bodies on the move, though none clustered tightly together as if being escorted. If they were secreted in another thermal-proofed cell, they could be hiding under his nose and he'd never know. He and Jason would have to go over the entire complex with a fine-toothed comb if they couldn't find another lead.

"Arrow, I've got something."

 _Saved by the Knight,_ he thought with a wry smile.

Green Arrow tapped a control on his collar to activate his earpiece. "Talk to me."

"There's a cluster of guards around three parked trucks, and they don't look like they're exchanging cooking tips."

He frowned. " _Three_ trucks?"

"I don't think they're shipping the prisoners out by sea."

Arrow's lips pursed. "Taking them out by land wouldn't make sense. There are FBI roadblocks at every exit of Star City. Unless…" He frowned and pulled out his PDA, checking a record from years back. "Damn."

"What?"

"I just had a ridiculous theory, and if I'm right, I've been overlooking a _very_ big problem."

"How do you mean?"

"Years ago, right after William was murdered, there was a—how to put it— _tectonic event_ that drastically rearranged the topography of Star City's southern region."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning an existing network of tunnels big enough to haul cargo was presumed collapsed for years, but with enough time and manpower—which Diaz had plenty of when he ran Star City—they'd be free and clear for covert transport in and out of the city."

"If they ship out to those tunnels—"

"Yeah, that'd be bad; they'll vanish for good." Green Arrow stood and turned toward where he'd seen the Knight touch down. "I'm heading your way. We need to put together a plan to extract them and fast. See if you can get eyes on the prisoners to confirm."

"Roger."

A few moments of quiet running later, and Knight's voice returned.

"I tossed a micro-cam into a far corner of the room. Sending the feed to your gauntlet."

Green Arrow's eyes drifted down to his arm mid-step, his keen eyes making out the faint movement from inside the darkened containers. "Confirmed. What's the headcount on the enemy force?"

"I mark at least a dozen inside the building, plus eight sentries around the perimeter. Extracting them to the north end isn't going to be easy without guns or powers."

"Stop griping; your dad could pull this off in his sleep."

"I'm just saying."

Caden's eyes rolled. "Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious. Change of plan: extract via the main road."

A moment of silence passed. "If we want to pull that off, we need to wear down the numbers inside. Draw them off somehow."

"Agreed. A distraction by the docks, perhaps? I can send an explosive arrow toward one of the ships, then move to back you up inside. This'll only work if we can get the prisoners out in one fell swoop. Move 'em all to one truck, then roll out when they're not looking or too far to stop you while I keep any stragglers busy."

"You're volunteering me to drive?"

Arrow smirked. "Guessing you don't have a CDL?"

"That's not the problem. If it has four wheels and an engine, I can drive it. My problem is if they call for vehicle backup and chase down the truck. I don't exactly have the means to fight back."

"That's why I'll be putting a call into the FBI once we get underway to meet the truck at a nearby intersection."

"Thought Green Arrow was the FBI's persona non grata, not to mention _all_ vigilantes—myself included."

"Which is why you'll be bailing as soon as you reach the intersection ahead of time."

"And if the Dragon's men are hot on our heels?"

Caden finally reached Jason's perch as he gave his reply. "Then you hold them off until the FBI get there and escape in the chaos."

The Knight looked back at him and frowned before shrugging. "Fair enough. Not like I haven't practiced that maneuver _ad nauseum_."

Caden drew an explosive arrow from his quiver and switched his bow to a higher draw weight to compensate for the distance. He drew it back slowly, exhaling a breath to steady his aim as he estimated the wind's direction and speed.

"Sure you can make the shot?"

He cast the Knight's smirking face a profoundly offended look. "Kid, they don't call me Green Arrow for nothing."

Without even looking, he loosed the arrow.

Three seconds later, a massive explosion blossomed on the bow of the left-most cargo ship, carving a gaping hole in its hull. Several panicked shouts came immediately, both from the loading bay below them and the surrounding buildings. Immediately, armed figures in winter coats scrambled to investigate, believing they were under attack. They weren't technically wrong. Knight's cowl deployed clear lenses over his eyes that quickly turned white as he frowned. A second later, Arrow found out why.

"Sonar's picking up only five guards left inside," the Knight said. "Should be a cakewalk for the two of us."

"Just make sure you don't get spotted," Arrow replied, underhandedly pulling a cable arrow from his quiver.

He leapt off the side of the building and stabbed the head into the wall, deploying a cable that allowed him to rappel two floors down, just low enough to hang upside-down and peek through the cargo doors. The five remaining gunmen were preoccupied on their walkies, trying to communicate and monitor the situation at the docks. None of them were watching the loading bay, a sloppy move uncharacteristic of Diaz's crew. Still, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Green Arrow released the line and dropped to the ground in a deep crouch that gave him a smaller profile and more stability. He nocked three of his neurotoxin arrows and nailed corresponding targets on the main loading platform with barely the whisper of a _twang_ , courtesy of the bow's naturally sound-dampening carbon construction. The bodies thumping against the ground were a different story. The other two whirled around fast, but didn't raise their weapons for another half-second.

One grunted when the Knight plugged him in the gun arm with his grapnel and yanked hard, sprinting toward him. The other screamed when a carbon impact arrow nailed the shoulder of his supporting arm, though not loudly enough to draw the attention of the ones who'd run off. They knocked out their corresponding baddies with a flying kick and knee, respectively. Knight's lenses snapped back down to give him one last look at their surroundings, vanishing a moment later as he turned to Green Arrow.

"All clear," he said with a nod.

Green Arrow nodded back. "Then you know your job. Pick a truck and scan it for trackers. I'll get the civilians moving."

"Roger."

Caden strode over to the first of the three trucks, finding it locked. He took a flechette from his belt and plunged its tungsten carbide head into the lock on the loading door. The flared head of the flechette erupted into heat and light as its thermite payload melted through the lock, a pronounced _pop_ following a moment later. The sound of startled shock from the truck's occupants preceded the retraction of the collapsing door and the attention of a half-dozen pairs of frightened eyes. The whispers that followed were becoming an all-too-familiar refrain among the civilians he'd rescued.

"It's him…"

"He looks so much different than—"

"Who do you think is—"

The resounding impact of Caden's palm against the wall of the truck stopped the chatter as he used his perfected vocal cords to modulate his voice, deepening it significantly. "You're getting out of here. Stay quiet and keep close." He glanced around, looking for Jason. "Knight, you made up your mind yet?"

His voice came back similarly modulated, but with a distinctly electronic edge. "Far right. I'll get my passengers up to speed."

Green Arrow turned back to the civilians in front of him. "You heard him. Pile into the far right truck once it's open. In about five minutes, give or take, you'll be in FBI custody."

They exchanged a few looks, but didn't go.

He slammed the wall and shouted at them, "Move!" He waved toward the docks with his empty hand. "They won't stay gone forever!"

 _That_ got them running.

One of the gunmen they'd knocked out began groaning only to find himself sporting another arrow in the hand he tried to use to draw his sidearm, nailing it to the concrete. A passing bow strike to the head finished him off as Green Arrow made for the final truck. He blasted the lock off the same way and repeated his warning to the last group. Within thirty seconds, about twenty civilians were piled in the back of Knight's designated truck and ready to go. It was just a matter of cracking the door and starting the engine, which would be loud enough to get some attention.

Knowing that, the Knight exchanged a look with Green Arrow. Caden turned aside and raised his gauntlet to select a phone number he'd listed under "Agent Self-Righteous."

A few rings later, a stern female voice answered. "What do you want?"

"How would you like to take credit for dismantling a human trafficking ring and kicking Richard Dragon in the balls?"

An irritated silence answered him before she replied, "What are you proposing?"

"Axe Drive and 45th Street." He nodded to Knight, who gave him a thumbs-up in acknowledgment. "Be there in five; there'll be a truck filled with scared civilians waiting for you."

"…and you?"

Green Arrow snorted. "Not a chance."

"You can't keep this up forever. I got Oliver Queen; it's just a matter of time for you too."

He scowled. "You got Queen because you exploited the people in his life. I think you'll find I have no such vulnerabilities, Agent Watson."

"Everyone is attached to something, Arrow."

"Yeah: my ass. Now, if you're done casting empty threats, you should probably call your people together—and SWAT. Might be a hot extraction."

Watson sighed. "Roger that. We'll be there waiting."

"Green Arrow out."

Caden ended the call and went for the control to open the doors, hand poised over the button until Knight gave him a nod. He hit it, then drew two impact arrows and nocked one while the other was tucked under his pinky. Knight's truck started up and rolled out full throttle, letting a deafening roar rip out of the repurposed factory. Panicked shouts began streaming from the docks as numerous footsteps rumbled in the distance. Green Arrow peeked out of the side door nearest the docks, using various crates and piles of rusted I-beams as cover.

The first gunman to come into sight took an arrow to the knee.

His second arrow met the bowstring and was drawn back within a split-second. It left the bow a moment later, sending another thug tumbling to the ground and the one behind him tripping over his screaming body. Gunfire broke out five seconds later, from three separate sources as black-clad bodies poured out into the open. Green Arrow ducked behind cover, waiting for a brief lull in the din before diving out into the open, a flashbang arrow ready and released mid-fall. It impacted as he landed behind his new cover, answering screams of panic and disorientation giving him a second to breathe before he popped back out to fire another pair of arrows into two newcomers.

The rest of the deafened and blinded group quickly found itself on the wrong end of his fist. The upper arm of his bow slammed into the jaw of the closest gunman, followed quickly by the one at his back, who was laid out with a trip-kick, followed quickly by a blow to the throat that left him choking. A woman in the group recovered quicker than the rest, shaking off the disorientation to bring a knife to bear. He used the lower arm of his bow to deflect her incoming strike, using his empty hand to grab her neck and choke-slam her back-first into another who tried to raise his gun.

A 360 roundhouse kick separated him from the rifle, and he shot an arrow through their shoulders, effectively nailing them together. A rifle-butt was swung at his head from behind, only the faintest hint of whooshing air alerting him in time to duck and underhandedly stab a flechette into his attacker's hip. A back-kick sent his reeling form tumbling to the pavement, quickly followed by an arrow to the leg for the one behind him. Caden twirled an arrow from his quiver, stopping the spin to hold it tip-up as three thugs came at him in a pincer movement.

One charged in with a police baton—by his build and haircut, Caden guessed he was former SCPD himself—and found his barrage of blows deflected by the bow. He screamed when Green Arrow stabbed the arrowhead through his upper thigh, twirling in the opposite direction to yank it out and wheel-kick through his head, laying him out flat. Knife-strikes and another baton came at him from the other two when he heard the telltale roar of SUV engines starting him and dove backward. He drew and fired his bloodied arrow into the knife-arm of one attacker, then twirled his body around mid-roll and pointed an explosive arrow in the opposite direction.

Two black Chevy Suburbans screeched out of the complex's motor pool, heading for the gate that Knight's truck had disappeared through a minute earlier. The arrow's strategically-placed nano-thermite payload sent both flaming vehicles careening roof-first into opposite ends of the gateway. He spun around just in time to grab an incoming baton and smack its user in the throat with his bow's arm. The weapon was wrenched from her suddenly limp grip and slammed hilt-first into her nose before he put his leg behind hers and hip-threw her skull-first into the pavement.

The crack of a gun preceded a hard impact on his high center mass, a grunt pulled from his throat as he rolled back with the force. An arrow answered that shot, the gunman ducking away just in time to reduce his attack to a graze. Caden cursed under his breath and dropped behind a stack of I-beams to check his stock of arrows. He pulled up the feed from the micro-cam in the warehouse, smiling when he saw that the wide angle of the camera included the half-dozen thugs taking cover behind a cluster of crates and large spools on the opposite end of the yard. His dark brown eyes drifted to the side as his mind raced with a quick calculation of mass, density, and impact force. The end result made him shrug.

 _Close enough,_ he decided.

Before he drew back his other nano-thermite arrow and sent it into the ground on the opposite side of their cover.

The fireball and concussive force resulting from the explosion sent wood, metal shards, and bodies flying across the factory yard in various states of damage. A chorus of groans and screams carried across the cold night air as Green Arrow stepped out of cover, scanning over the aftermath of the explosion with an impact arrow to verify that the enemy had been dealt with. He let his bowstring go lax but kept the arrow nocked just in case. A small sigh of relief left his lungs as he put a hand to his chest to activate his commlink with the Knight.

"How's it going?"

"All clear so far," he answered a moment later. "What about you?"

A groan from one of the downed gunmen prompted him to whack him in the head with his bow. "Nothing I couldn't handle." A quiet scuff from behind prompted him to whirl around, arrow drawn back. His eyes widened as he added, "But I get the feeling that's about to change."

"Good instincts," drawled the trenchcoat-clad newcomer.

Near the caved-in gate swaggered in Richard Dragon, flanked on either side by rifle-toting thugs with ballistic masks and heavy body armor. Green Arrow slowly lowered the bow and let the string go lax, slowly returning the arrow to his quiver. Faster than any of the three could react, he drew back two neurotoxin arrows at once and nailed Diaz's bodyguards in the shoulder, where the armor was weakest. They hit the deck as one a second or two later. Diaz sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I swear, I gotta do everything myself."

Before Green Arrow could respond, Diaz reached under the right-hand flap of his trenchcoat and hefted a pump-action shotgun. At twenty feet, he expected the spread to mitigate the effects of the initial blast. He didn't anticipate the Dragon loading his weapon with lead slugs. The sheer impact force knocked the wind out of him, and he barely managed to roll out of it. Caden had just enough presence of mind to throw a flashbang flechette at Diaz right before the second slug came his way.

Diaz turned away from the explosion to avoid being blinded, sending his shot wide to the left and giving Green Arrow enough time to scramble for cover and get out of sight. He gasped and took deep, gulping breaths to recover and fight back the pain. Looking down, he saw three gaping holes in the green color scheme of his vest, one much larger than the other two. Groaning, he nocked another arrow and popped out of cover to send it at Diaz. The crime lord rolled sideways and returned fire from a crouch, sending splinters and wood chips flying through the air when Caden ducked back behind cover.

Three more slugs tore through the pallet, forcing him to get lower and lower before he heard the telltale click of an empty chamber. Green Arrow flew from behind cover, sending another arrow toward the Dragon's chest. He raised the shotgun mid-reload, catching the arrow with the butt of the gun right as Arrow slammed into him shoulder-first. An arrow in his hand slashed through the gun's strap mid-tumble, sending it flying from Diaz's grasp before the arrow was redirected to stab at his shoulder. Diaz slapped his hand aside and countered with a backfist to the face that was deflected with his bow.

A low kick from Arrow sent Diaz's rear leg backward, forcing him to one knee. A knee to the face sent the Dragon rolling backward, trying to get some distance between them. Green Arrow lunged at him, alternating bow strikes with thrusts of the arrow still in his right hand. A few blunt impacts managed to get through Diaz's defenses, but for the most part he managed to avoid the worst of the onslaught despite Caden's best efforts. After ducking under a wide horizontal swipe with the bow, the Dragon lunged forward in a crouch and nailed Caden in the ribs with a half-dozen chain punches before withdrawing from his counterattack.

Green Arrow overlapped wide strikes with precise thrusts and rapid kicks to force the Dragon on the defensive, but his superior strength wasn't serving him well owing to Diaz's Wing Chun background. Thus, he threw the rulebook out the window and threw his bow at Diaz, managing to distract him long enough to close the distance with a flying knee that sent him crashing into the concrete wall of the factory. Caden lunged toward him with the arrow before he could recover, Diaz just managing to keep the arrowhead from piercing his body.

All Drake had to do was close the distance; his body armor wouldn't help a bit—he'd chosen a tungsten-headed arrow for just that reason.

"This is for Quentin," he snarled into Diaz's face.

And then he caught a flicker of gray and silver in the edge of his vision, and an idea occurred to him.

 _God, I hope I'm right._

Gritting his teeth, Caden braced against the incoming pain and allowed Diaz to turn the arrow back on him, directing the arrowhead into his own left shoulder. Green Arrow screamed and staggered back as the Dragon dug the arrowhead deeper into his shoulder and pivoted around to slam him into the wall, sending pain exploding across his arm and upper torso. Diaz shoved him into the wall one more time, sending him sliding to the ground as he grasped the arrow in his shoulder to stabilize it.

"You're good," Diaz taunted as he drew a Sig Sauer from the back of his belt and lifted it to Caden's head, "but you're no Oliver Queen."

He almost smirked at that. _You're right—I'm_ better _._

But right then, proving that wasn't his purpose.

…

" _Hey_!"

Richard Dragon snapped his attention to the new voice from across the motor pool, in the direction of the gate.

Standing there was the Knight, his glare visible even at that distance. "Remember _me_?!"

Diaz smiled and lowered his weapon, swaggering toward the Knight. "So you survived; I'm impressed!" He shrugged, waving his gun in Jason's direction. "Less so that you came back for more. I'd have thought you'd be a little smarter than that."

Jason snarled behind his helmet. "Maybe I learn faster than you think."

With that, he threw a smoke pellet at the same time that Diaz opened fire on him, lunging for the car between them that was engulfed by the smoke. Bullets whizzed past and tore through the vehicle as lenses snapped down over Jason's eyes, lighting up the Dragon's heat signature. A second later, a razor-fine aluminum-carbide barb lanced into the shoulder of Diaz's firing arm, pulling a yell from his throat as Jason engaged his grapnel's reel function. Bracing his legs against the other side of the car, the grapnel yanked Diaz across the motor pool and dragged him through the gravel as he tried to realign his sight picture.

When the distance closed to about twelve feet, the Knight leapt over the hood of the car with a roar, letting the grapnel pull him the rest of the way into a drop-kick that separated Diaz from his gun and sent them both tumbling through the gravel. Jason yanked on the cable as soon as he got enough leverage, pulling Diaz into a hook that worked his jaw around. Snarling, the Dragon yanked the cable out of his shoulder and reached back to his belt, drawing the same karambit he'd used on Jason last time.

The first two swipes missed, barely, but that was intentional. Jason stayed as close as possible to limit Diaz's field of vision with regard to his motions, allowing him to reach to his belt and draw a batarang, thrusting it up at the Dragon's gut—the same spot he'd been stabbed. Diaz slapped it aside and countered with a swing at Jason's neck. He ducked into the blow, sending the knife skidding over his helmet and opening Diaz up to a hook to the ribs that made him flinch. The Dragon spun away to reorient himself, opening with a left jab and following with a left snap-kick to Knight's hip.

Jason tucked his arm against his head to block the jab and raised his right leg to stop the kick with his shin. His left hand snapped out to catch Diaz across the chin, his right lashing out to swing at his face with the batarang. The Dragon ducked the slice and countered with a swipe aimed at Jason's midsection. He popped his hips backward, sending the blade skidding off his ab-plates, and countered with a shin-kick to the gut. Diaz braced for the strike and used his empty hand to catch Jason's leg, readying to cut it the same way he'd done to his left last time. The Knight caught the knife on his batarang, trapping him there just long enough to leap up and nail Diaz in the head with his other leg.

They both tumbled to the ground, rolling upright and trading blows with their blades until a roundhouse-kick separated Jason from the batarang and a return hook-kick nailed him in the chest. He grunted with the impact, but managed to snag Diaz's foot and pull him off-balance. Angling himself behind the Dragon, Knight grabbed him around the neck and shoulder in a triangle choke that quickly fell apart when Diaz swung for his fingers. Instead, he linked his arms around the Dragon's midsection and suplexed him into the gravel.

Diaz leapt into a crouch and sent a roundhouse at Jason's head as they both scrambled for the upper hand, just ducked and countered with a side-kick that nailed him in the gut and sent him rolling away. A flying knee slammed into Jason's helmet, sending him staggering backward and barely able to deflect the incoming knife-strikes with his gauntlets. That disorientation left him open to a kick that knocked him back into a car door, his impact caving it in. He caught Diaz's knife with his left gauntlet and tried to counter with a right hook, but found his wrist grabbed and used to swing him back-first into the car's other door.

His head was slammed into the window a second later, shattering the glass and stunning him further. The next thing he knew, he was thrown to the ground and his right arm was pinned under the Dragon's left knee, that accursed knife descending on his neck. Jason just barely managed to stop it by grabbing Diaz's wrist, but it was clearly a losing battle with two arms and gravity fighting his one. Gritting his teeth in panic, he tried unsuccessfully to free his right arm before his eyes flickered to the side to see Green Arrow's skewered form heaving with the effort of trying to wrench the arrow out of his shoulder.

If he failed now, Caden would still be vulnerable and with the Dragon's gun nearby, it was only a matter of getting a few good shots in and they'd both be dead.

It was with that cheery thought that something occurred to him, and he shifted his arm just enough that he was no longer grasping Diaz's wrist, but pushing back with his forearm.

A split-second later, the Dragon shrieked as one of Jason's left arm-blades deployed and punched through his knife-arm's wrist. His recoil lessened the weight on Jason's right arm, which freed it enough to rabbit-punch Diaz in the throat. While he was stunned, Knight retracted his blades and used both hands to strip the knife from the Dragon's hand before using his own hands to spring into a mule-kick that sent Diaz flying six feet away. Scrambling upright, Jason didn't even take a moment to catch his breath before lunging forward into a barrage of powerful hooks and crosses that battered Diaz's crippled defenses, specifically his injured right side.

Finally, he recoiled and dropped his guard, leaving him vulnerable to a thrust-kick that sent him crashing back-first into a car. Roaring, Jason leapt sideways and sprung off a nearby stack of pallets, using his momentum to nail the Dragon in the jaw with a flying cross that sent them both tumbling to the ground. Their heavy breaths filled the otherwise quiet night air for a few seconds before Diaz chuckled haltingly.

"Not bad, kid. If I didn't know you had such a giant stick up your ass, I might have a place for you in my organization."

Jason grunted and hauled himself upright, cautiously making his way toward Diaz. "I'd be happy to pull it out and ram it up yours."

He laughed. "Oh I bet you would. Not happening tonight, though."

"Yeah," he replied with a smirk, "because my _foot's_ already planted firmly up there."

Diaz smiled malevolently. "Not what I meant."

Before Jason could put him in cuffs or ask him to clarify, tandem _cracks_ sounded in the distance, and he found the wind knocked out of him from two shots that impacted his upper torso. He dove for cover behind the pallets, giving Diaz just enough room to scramble upright and make his way toward the squad of reinforcements that had just arrived. Growling, he was about to lunge from cover when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Let him go."

He looked back at Green Arrow incredulously. "But—he's _right there_!"

"And so's a small army of backup." By the look on his face, Caden wasn't any happier about it than he was. "Live to fight another day."

Jason clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth at the smug look on Richard Dragon's bloodied face before cursing under his breath and drawing his grapnel.

"Hold onto me!"

The Knight popped another smoke pellet, using his sonar lenses to send his grapnel shot into a nearby building and reel them up, the smoke giving them enough cover for the gunmen to be out of range before they could get a bead. As they crashed through one of the upper-floor windows of the building, Jason hauled Green Arrow upright, gingerly holding the side that had held one of his own arrows as they got the hell out of there.

…

Jason fumed the whole way back to Caden's penthouse, casting the upper half of his gear in an unceremonious pile as soon as he got to the training room.

"We _had_ him!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Caden replied calmly, "and it won't be the last." He grunted in pain as he peeled off his perforated vest and set about treating the hole in his shoulder. "Just bad luck, I guess."

That caused Jason to stop in his tracks, slowly turning to face him.

Caden sensed his intent gaze and arched an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Jason's lips pursed. "The historical records of you aren't exactly comprehensive, but there are two things that are pretty clear. First: the only unmodified human you've ever lost a one-on-one fight to is my father." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And second: you don't _believe_ in luck."

Just the faintest twitch of something tugged at Caden's lips, causing Jason's suspicion to spike.

"You threw the fight."

And with that, he smirked and shrugged. "Guilty."

Jason stared at hm in abject shock for a moment before half-yelling, "Why?! You could've ended his threat tonight, dead or alive. You had him _pinned_."

His head shook slowly. "That wasn't the point."

He blinked uncomprehendingly for a second. "You…you _wanted_ me to fight him."

"I did."

"Why? Why would you do that, knowing how things turned out last time?"

"Because I knew things would turn out differently."

Jason's confusion spiked, and he shook his head. "I don't follow."

Caden sighed and sat back on a crate as he began suturing his shoulder with a small wince. "Think back to our little sparring session. When did the tables turn? I mean _really_ turn?"

His mind ran for a second or two. "You…had me pinned in a headlock."

"Uh huh."

"And…you were taunting me about—Kara."

"Warmer."

Jason's eyes widened. "You didn't throw the fight just to give me a shot at him. You wanted to be vulnerable, to give me something to protect."

Caden smiled.

Jason approached him slowly, wagging a finger at him. "And you didn't talk about my parents and Kara to piss me off—you were trying to get me to focus on them because—"

"Because you have consistently fought harder and better every time you do. Think back to your first night in this time, when you went up against Cheetah, someone who regularly gives _Wonder Woman_ a hard time." Caden smirked. "Did you really think a year of training with the Hood is what made you survive that long?"

Jason frowned, eyes narrowing. "Wait…I only told Jay about that. How'd you know?"

Caden's eyes widened almost-imperceptibly. Apparently, he hadn't meant for Jason to catch that.

And then it all fell into place. "You're why he was in Gotham. Those guns, that whole operation—it was Richard Dragon's, and you couldn't go after it yourself because—"

"Because I had another crisis here in Star City. Red and I have always shared a...strange kind of kinship."

Jason blinked. "That's why you invited me here in the first place." His hand drifted down to the scar on his gut. "You felt guilty about what happened."

"Not guilty, no." Caden cast him a reprimanding look. "You went looking for trouble and found it. But…I suppose I felt a bit responsible for creating the circumstances that led to…all that. Still, it's probably better that I had. If you'd gotten into that situation on your own, you wouldn't be alive to have this conversation."

He shrugged, conceding the point.

"My point is, every time you've performed well above expectations, it's always been for someone or something greater than yourself. When you faced down Cheetah, you were trying to save your parents. When you _flawlessly_ fought Iles' crew, it was to protect the Markans and your brother. Even when you and Kara were kidnapped yesterday, same deal." He snorted. "Though she clearly didn't need the protection."

Jason frowned. "I got sloppy and forgot the grenade launcher."

"Did you really?"

"Well…" he thought for a second, "no. I guess I just thought he'd be smarter than to set off a grenade in such a confined space."

"I'm guessing you were stuck in a room with him for a while; did he strike you as a particularly rational person?"

Jason huffed a laugh. "I guess not, no."

Caden smiled. "Either way, you see my point, yes?"

"I'm starting to." His lips pursed. "Though I still don't understand why you'd pass up the chance to capture the Dragon just to teach me a lesson."

Caden sighed. "As hard as it may be to believe, in this situation, Richard Dragon is the small fish."

His eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Caden's lips pursed as he nodded and pulled out his PDA. A wall-spanning flatscreen display was revealed when a false wall peeled back, showing an extensive file of various crimes, names, and mug shots.

"Before Oliver went to prison, he and the FBI dealt a crippling blow to Diaz's operations in Star City, forced him to run with his tail between his legs." He swiped something on his phone that brought up an image of the Dragon surrounded by heavily armed men. "Then, not long after you showed up in Gotham, he came back stronger than ever, with numbers and resources I _know_ he couldn't have built up on his own in the little time he had."

Jason frowned. "You think there's someone backing him."

"I _know_ there is." Another couple swipes showed numerous transaction records and shipments of encrypted contents. "I don't know who they are exactly, or where they came from, but I know they're powerful and _global_. We're talking _billions_ invested in numerous criminal enterprises across the world since August, and what I've dug up is just scratching the _surface_."

He huffed and shook his head in disbelief. "This mystery organization have a name?"

Caden nodded. "They're clever, hiding behind numerous brokers and shell corporations, but one name keeps popping up wherever I look."

Jason's eyes widened at the big, bold letters that filled the screen.

 _The Decembrists._

Caden noticed his reaction. "You know the name?"

He nodded slowly, eyes darkening. "For all the wrong reasons."

"Hm." Drake tilted his head and smiled a little. "Then perhaps it wasn't coincidence that brought you into the Dragon's path. I hesitate to say _fate_ , but…considering your heritage, maybe those three old ladies had something to do with it after all."

At the very _mention_ of his Olympian heritage, he frowned and hummed absently.

"Anyway, you better rest up. Got an early flight tomorrow."

Jason cast him a confused look. "Flight? Where?"

Caden stared at him blankly. "Home."

"But—I just _got_ here. I thought we were supposed to train together."

"We did." He smiled. "And you already got it." His head shook slowly. "Your problem was never in technique or lack of powers. We both know those are _useless_ without fighting spirit. And the best fighting spirit _never_ comes from a place of selfishness. When you fought Richard Dragon the first time, you weren't out there for some noble, higher cause, or even to protect someone you loved." Caden smiled sardonically. "You were throwing a tantrum, filled with self-pity." His lips pursed tightly. "I've been in this business a long time, kid, and let me tell you: self-pity…is the absolute _last_ thing you want to bring into a fight."

Jason stared at the ground for a while before asking, "Then what's the first?"

Caden slowly smiled at the ground, eyes warmer than Jason could remember seeing. "As trite and cliché as it may sound: love. Love of a person, of an ideal…" he shrugged, "doesn't matter. Unless you're a selfish person by nature, focusing your motivation inward, on selfish desires will always leave you handicapped." He smiled at Jason. "And I don't think that's you."

Jason stayed silent.

"So, keep that in mind wherever you go. Every time you wade into a fight, always focus on what you're fighting for, or _who_. Do that, and you will be _amazed_ how many battles you come out on top of, no matter how the odds are stacked against you." Caden's eyes intensely met his gaze. "If you remember nothing else from our time together, remember that."

Jason thought for a few seconds before asking, "So what is it _you_ focus on?"

Caden blinked and, for a second, his eyes flickered with something uncertain and altogether melancholy before it was replaced by amusement and his face split in a toothy grin. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" After a moment or two of silence, he sighed. "Anyway, you can take the bed upstairs. I won't be sleeping much tonight."

After a pause, Jason asked, "You sure?"

"Oh yeah, I'm good. Sleep well. And great job tonight."

He smiled a bit as he walked off. "Thanks."

…

Half an hour later, Jason was showered and taking two aspirin before bed. He'd almost been able to forget he had a concussion until the adrenaline ebbed from his system and he felt a splitting headache come on somewhere during Caden's lecture. The shower and a bit of ice had helped; the Dragon's beatdown had not. Still, for all the bruises and pain, Drake had been right about one thing: he'd learned a lot tonight, about himself and the job. And apparently, he was about to learn superhero boyfriend etiquette 101.

When he checked his phone for the first time in hours, he found about a dozen texts and a missed call from Kara, their contents in increasing intensity and worry, but all with the same overarching message.

[Jason?]

[U there?]

[Did I say something wrong?]

[Did I overstep last night?]

[Plz talk to me]

Jason's heart sank, and he didn't even bother listening to Kara's voicemail before he called her, wincing at the time—it was well past midnight in Star City, and she was at least an hour ahead of him. The line rang a few times before it clicked with her picking up.

"Hello?" she asked uncertainly. Despite the time, she didn't sound tired or groggy.

"I am… _so_ sorry, Kara. I was in the middle of an operation with Green Arrow, and I totally forgot to let you know I'd be out of contact."

"… _oh_. Um…so you saw all the texts?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

She laughed nervously. "Guess I kinda overreacted, huh?

"No, I got distracted and left you hanging, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"…"

"Also, you absolutely did _not_ overstep last night. That was…" he bit his lower lip, blushing at the memory, " _very_ _much_ okay. B-Better than okay."

Kara chuckled. "Good to know. So uh…how's Star City this time of year?"

"Cold and dangerous, but nothing I couldn't handle with the right partner. I'm actually heading home in the morning."

"Already? Wow."

Jason smiled as he reflected on his busy night. "Yeah. Apparently I'm a faster learner than even _I_ realized."

"Well _I_ could've told you that."

He chuckled. "There's…something I learned about myself, and I never realized how important it was until tonight."

"Yeah, Caden may be the oddball of your 'family,' but he's one hell of a teacher."

Jason's eyebrows knitted. "You know each other?"

"I mean, we've interacted from time to time, but I only know what I hear. Must be true if he got through to someone as stubborn as you."

"Hey!"

Kara laughed. "I'm just saying."

The line was filled with a comfortable silence for a while.

"So…what was it you learned?"

Jason smiled at the ceiling, eyes glazing over a bit as his mind flashed to his parents and his memories of her from the future. "I…I think I've been putting my focus in the wrong place this whole time. Thinking long-term is great, but we live in the here and now. The big picture is only so important in the day to day."

"Okay…so what does that mean?"

He smiled wider. "It means…instead of looking years into the future, fixating on events that haven't even happened yet, that might _never_ happen now…I'm going to focus on being in the present. My goal isn't just to save my parents; it's to make sure the people in my life _always_ have a tomorrow." Jason grinned. "And that includes you, gorgeous."

Kara giggled. "That's…really sweet, Jace. Just remember to take a moment for yourself every now and then; can't have you burning yourself out, even for us."

"I know that now. Can't help anyone if I'm a wreck."

"Just making sure. Anyway, I have work in the morning, so I'm gonna let you go."

"Okay." He smiled. "Before you do, you given any thought to where we'll be having our second date?"

She chuckled, her voice flirty. "I'll let you know."

He returned her tone. "Well, you've got my number."

"I think so."

"Good night, Kara," he laughed.

"Night, Jace."

Jason laid his phone on the nightstand, rolling on his side to stare out the wide-panel glass giving him a breathtaking panoramic view of Star City. His mind drifted once more, reviewing the course of the night and the lessons Caden had drummed into his head. Something he'd said came back to him suddenly.

" _You should consider adding a prefix, or another word to it. Preferably_ before _Knight._ … _Make the other word more about_ you _."_

Then his own words to Kara came back to him.

" _My goal isn't just to save my parents; it's to make sure the people in my life always have a tomorrow."_

Jason's lips slowly quirked upward. _Tomorrow…_

That single word slipped through his mind as his eyes drifted shut. That night, while the Dragon licked his wounds and the Green Arrow fought his perpetual despair alone…

The Tomorrow Knight slept, safe and secure in his life's purpose.

* * *

AN: Sorry it took so long for this to come out. School was absolute murder. Now that I'm done with finals, though, I finally had the time to bang the rest of this out.

So, this chapter…hmm…there are a _lot_ of references in this chapter, mostly to the Arrowverse, thanks to the subject matter. Caden is my voice of outrage and despair with regard to the absolute _travesty_ that was Arrow S4. Though since I felt it fit better with the story—and the characters I'm going for—I intensified events a bit. A lot. Screw S4.

Ahem, rant over.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. I always have a blast writing archers, as anyone who's read my Elder Scrolls stories can probably tell, so having Caden as Green Arrow was an opportunity I really wanted to exploit. He'll be having a pretty big role in this story, along with several others we've already seen and a few still to come. Let me put it this way: every DC story I have ever written or plan to write is connected to this one in some way that'll become apparent in time.

 _Every one_.

More to come soon, I hope, now that I'm on spring break, but after the crapton of writing I've done this term, I might have to rest my hands for a bit. We'll see. I'm really looking forward to the next two chapters in particular, since they'll be wrapping up Act I of this story. Now that I've had the opportunity to plan TK out a bit more, I think there will be five acts in all, though given how long it's taken me to get through Act I, I'm uncertain how long it'll take to get through the rest. Probably doesn't help that I have such a heavy course load, but alas, such is the life of a college student.

Please leave a review when you can; introducing Caden as a character is always a learning experience for me, since he's one of my oldest OCs and has had multiple iterations over the years.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Arrow (Season 5) - On the Line!: "Hit me"/opening spar/palm to the chest

Daredevil (Season 1) - Stick: start-1:20—"stop acting like it!"/"you'd already given up", 1:20-end—second wind/Jason's turnabout/flying back-kick

Arrow (Season 1) - Vigilante Justice: Knight's escape/shootout with Diaz's men/"Nothing I couldn't handle"

Arrow (Season 6) - Final Showdown with Diaz: start-1:30—Green Arrow vs. Richard Dragon, 1:30-1:54—"Hey!"/grapnel shot, 1:54-2:52—the Tomorrow Knight vs. Richard Dragon, 2:52-3:08—final beatdown/flying cross, 3:08-end—"Let him go"/grapnel escape


	12. Case File 4: Devil Dog, Part I

Dragoneye, LLC.

It was categorically unheard of that a police department brought third parties into ongoing investigations. Blüdhaven PD was an exception for multiple reasons. First and foremost was the sheer volume of crime they had to deal with on a daily basis, and not minor offenses either. The second was the company itself, originally based out of Gotham City, previously employed and highly recommended by Wayne Enterprises. They'd apparently been instrumental in getting to the bottom of a rash of corporate break-ins and attacks during the Court of Owls crisis. Not to mention pointed GCPD toward the Court's various contacts inside the local government and underworld, leading to a series of devastating stings over the course of the following months.

Headed up by Timothy Drake and backed by an extensive network of information from sources unknown, Dragoneye staked its reputation on solving the unsolvable in decidedly Holmesian methodology. So much so that Drake himself had once jokingly assumed the title of "consulting detective." Then that joke had gotten around and it stuck.

The truth was, Dragoneye was the public face of the Bat Family, on the scene when its members couldn't be—at least not in costume. It had been Tim's idea and pet project two years before Diana had become part of the family as a means of breaking Stephanie free of the manipulations of her father, Cluemaster, and ensuring her a life beyond his crimes by giving her a practical use for her skills outside her mask (the Spoiler at that time). He'd also realized that the Family's public operations, or lack thereof, was hampering their ability to work in the daytime—at least for those who didn't have dozens of aliases and disguises like Bruce. That and Tim was having trouble finding something to do with his free time after he moved out of the manor and became Red Robin.

After some _extensive_ convincing on the part of Tim, Dick, and Barbara; Bruce helped with the start-up cash. Barbara's end was mostly to get her father off her back about her job, put a bit of legitimacy into her occupation as a hacker. As a result, her Clock Tower had been Dragoneye's original base of operations, and continued that way whenever Tim operated out of Gotham. As the founder and owner, Tim was the public face of the company and its primary agent, with tech and information support from Oracle and assorted help from other Bats if and when the opportunity arose.

Which was how Stephanie got roped into a six-month internship with Dragoneye. As a college student studying cyber-security and forensic accounting, it was the perfect opportunity and that had been one of Tim's goals in creating it to begin with. In fact, when he came to her with the job offer—complete with board and a healthy stipend—Tim had smugly informed her that he'd founded Dragoneye that early specifically so they would have enough of a reputation to be plausible as a work-study program by the time she reached college. So plausible, in fact, that she'd actually been given the first six months after graduating early to walk into college with some work experience. Well, something she could put on a resume anyway.

Steph had been…reluctant, to say the least. She'd given up being Batgirl for a reason, after all, and without a mask, there was no way to hide her identity should someone come looking for payback. However, Tim was insistent that she would be tech and investigative support only, which was the primary (really _only_ ) role of the company. Criminals went after the people slapping them in handcuffs, not the ones sitting in a lab working the evidence. In Dragoneye's current contract with BPD, that meant working specifically with the homicide unit, headed up by none other than Dick Grayson, who served as their liaison with the department.

A few years ago, there had been a secondary liaison (or at least a second person in on it) within the department, specifically the SWAT unit, but he had retired young after an ambush left him with a mangled knee. Last Steph had heard, he'd moved to Georgia and cashed in his investments and pension to open a restaurant. Strange shift for a career cop, but she'd bounced from small-time criminal to vigilante to missionary to…whatever she was now, so who was she to judge?

Speaking of which…

Tim's burgundy Charger pulled up to the scene of a recent homicide, where a police line was already drawn and the shaken witnesses were strewn about, with various uniformed officers taking their statements. The scene of the crime was a local diner with "SORILLO'S" printed over the door in big, bold letters.

"Here," Tim said quietly, holding one arm out to her after he reached into the center console.

She took the proffered item, an official Blüdhaven PD consultant's lanyard, and clipped it to the collar of her blouse as she stepped out of the car. One of the nearby unis spotted Tim's car and flagged him down.

"Mr. Drake," he greeted.

Tim smiled and shook his hand. "Sergeant Nguyen, good to see you again."

He lifted the police tape and nodded to Stephanie. "New hire?"

"Intern. She'll be in-field tech support for the next few months, so expect to see her around."

Steph shook his hand. "Stephanie Brown."

"Terri Nguyen, a pleasure." He tilted his head toward the entrance door. "Detective Grayson is waiting for you inside."

"Thanks, Terri," Tim replied, waving Steph through.

She ducked under the tape and followed Tim through the doors. The first thing she noticed was the profound lack of chaos that typically followed a homicide in broad daylight. Especially at lunchtime, when this place was bound to be packed with guests. Except for a few tilted chairs and scattered napkins, it was almost like the patrons and staff had identified the danger and walked out in an orderly fashion—you know, like they were supposed to. If it wasn't for the face-down body and wide blood spray in the very center of the large, open room, she might've thought they'd cleared out for a simple gas leak.

Crouched over the victim was a familiar raven-haired man, eyebrows knitted with a pen between his lips. His eyes flickered up to them when their forms blocked the sunlight from the street and cast a shadow over them.

Dick stood and smiled, palming Tim's right hand in a bro-hug before shaking Stephanie's hand and patting her on the shoulder. "Hey, good to see you two." He looked to Steph. "Heard you graduated early, congratulations."

She smiled a little. "Thanks. Columbia let me takes some time to get a little work experience, something about getting a better mentorship in my program once I start classes."

He nodded. "Well, good for you." Dick glanced over her shoulder, frowning a bit.

"Something wrong?" Tim asked.

"Waiting on someone, a late arrival."

"Well in the meantime, can you get us up to speed?"

Dick nodded and waved to the body. "Victim's name is Neal Sorillo; he's the owner of the diner. Dead from a GSW to the back." He rolled Sorillo over, revealing a gaping bloody hole in his chest. "Bullet went right through."

"Ouch—what kind of slug makes a hole that wide?"

All three turned toward the new voice, a wide-eyed Jason Wayne clad in his trademark leather jacket with a messenger bag around his shoulders.

Dick blinked before answering him. "A big one, moving fast. At least fifty caliber, if I had to guess."

"Pretty big blood spray to match," Tim pointed out. "You recover the slug yet?"

His head shook, hand waving to the old, pockmarked building. "Too many holes in this place to quickly find where it ended up. Not without knowing the trajectory, at least."

"Where'd the shot come from?" Stephanie asked.

"Again, no idea. According to witnesses, nobody heard gunfire before he got hit. There was no warning at all, no muzzle flash. Sorillo was going around the tables, making sure the service was going well, when his chest just exploded and he dropped over right here."

Tim's eyes narrowed, and as Steph eyed the side of his head, she could see the gears turning. "So he was moving when he got shot."

Dick's head shook. "Not quite." He jabbed a pen in his hand toward one of the witnesses outside, a waitress sitting in an ambulance with blood covering her left side.

Steph guessed it wasn't hers, since she wasn't on a gurney.

"She was standing right next to him when he was shot, confirming an order from one of the tables."

"And he dropped immediately?" Jason asked.

Dick nodded.

Steph turned her eyes to the body, then glanced back at the entrance. "From where he's standing, the windows are his backstop, but they're all intact."

"So if the shot went through him and kept going," Tim added, "It was fired from very low or very high." He pulled something from his own bag while Stephanie did the same. "You take the ground; I'll scan the ceiling."

She nodded and held up the device in her hands, a PDA version of the WayneTech crime scene analysis tech built into the lenses of the Batman's cowl. Movement from the side caught her attention, and to her surprise, Jason had the same device—or a version of it, at least. His looked…about a decade ahead of its time.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked absently.

"Hm?" Jason hummed. "Oh, Tim invited me to spend a few days in Blüdhaven, working with you two."

Stephanie turned to her boyfriend with an expectant look.

Tim blinked back at her innocently. "What? Bruce said he needed him out of the house for a bit, not sure why."

"Okay first off," Jason countered, sounding slightly offended, " _they_ didn't need me out of the house, I _wanted_ to leave."

And Stephanie knew why. After his return from Star City last week—and a _glowing_ report from Tim's cousin—Jason and Stephanie had been roped into preparing security for a peace summit being held in New York City around Christmas. Since she wasn't actively part of the Family, Steph was to be managing the surveillance drones periodically patrolling the perimeter, a task probably better suited for Oracle if she wasn't busy helping Black Bat topple a corrupt local government in East Asia. Jason's role was camera watching, knowing the surroundings of the building, and scanning the crowds for any ne'er-do-wells or known criminals.

Not a difficult task to accomplish when the nation of Bialya was one of the attending parties.

Problem was, _those_ criminals happened to be running the country, so they kinda _had_ to be in the building. Which was why Wonder Woman was being posted in the meeting room, _very_ visibly, as a means of deterrent. She still wasn't quite showing enough to keep her out of the field, but any time now she'd be out of commission. Steph figured she was staving that off for as long as possible. Having once been pregnant herself, she knew the feeling.

She frowned and shunted her mind away from those painful memories as fast as possible.

Needless to say, Jason was quickly becoming annoyed by the repeated head-bashing against the mile-long list of names and faces he was supposed to memorize and needed some time away.

"Got something!"

 _Speak of the devil._

"Got something!" Jason shouted again, drawing them over. He showed them the screen of his device, which highlighted a vaguely cylindrical shape through several layers of tile and concrete using sonar. "What do you think?"

Dick frowned and looked around on the floor, finding a large hole not far from the highlighted object. "I think there's very little chance that got down there by accident. The only question is how it got so deep."

He flagged down some of the unis outside, including Blüdhaven CSU, and started barking orders to have the floor dug up. As Dick waved them away from the site to give the officers room to work, Stephanie pulled out her phone and held back a smirk as she typed up a text.

[Your boyfriend's here.]

A few seconds passed. [What?]

[Jason just walked through the door of a crime scene, got a Dragoneye badge and all.]

[What's Jason doing in Blüdhaven?]

Steph grinned. [Want me to ask him?]

[NO. Do NOT tell him we're talking.]

[Why? Trouble in paradise?]

[No, he just has a lot on his plate with this peace summit thing]

[Clearly not, or he wouldn't be here.]

[* _Kara is typing_ *]

Stephanie glanced at Tim's focused expression. "What?" she asked, eyes flickering to the brick wall he was staring at.

"Oi, take a step to the side!" shouted Jason, who was standing over the body and squinting at the crowd of police digging for the slug.

Tim looked confused for a moment before his expression shifted and he sidled up next to Jason. Steph looked around for Dick, finding him talking to Sergeant Nguyen about the witness statements, from what little she could hear. Which left her and the boys to…what were they doing?

As she approached, their hushed conversation started resolving into words.

"So he would've been standing about _here_ , if he landed there," Jason said.

"No," Tim said, shaking his head and pointing at the screen of Jason's PDA. "Adjust for the kinetic backlash of the exit wound."

"Oooooh I see."

Tim's focused frown deepened slightly. "So that puts the trajectory of the shot at a roughly twenty-five degree angle. Based on the location of the entry wound and his approximate height, the shot came from…"

They turned around in tandem, Steph looking to where Tim angled a small laser pointer toward the far wall of the restaurant— _high_ on the wall.

"There's no _way_ he was shot from inside the building," Stephanie said, "unless our perp is eight feet tall and has a gun in their eye."

They both gave her a sideways look, looking very much related at that moment despite their lack of shared DNA.

She threw her hands up. "Stranger things _have_ happened, I get it, but still."

"She's right," said Jason as he drew closer to the wall. A flashlight function on his phone illuminated a large knothole near Tim's laser, at about the right elevation. "Someone shot _through_ the brick—and whatever's behind it."

Tim slapped his shoulder. "Let's grab Dick and check it out. Good find."

"Thanks," he muttered absently, looking down at his phone. A smile quirked his lips for a second before he caught Stephanie staring. "'Sup?"

"Want to let me in on the joke?" she asked.

Jason grinned and angled his phone screen toward her. "Lindsey had a snafu with chem lab."

Stephanie stared at the picture for a second, uncomprehending, before busting out in uncontrollable chortling. Something they were both quick to hush, considering the looks some of the officers were giving them. They _were_ at a crime scene, after all. Still, with the number of dead bodies she'd been around in her eighteen years, Steph was more than a little jaded. Which brought up the question of what _Jason_ had seen…

The picture had showed the aftereffects of a mistaken mixture of several mislabeled chemicals in the wrong proportions. The result? An explosion of colored gases that had turned her hair from red to purple and her skin orange. Granted, it was probably just a film of condensed chemical residue that had caused the change and she was no doubt being reamed out by her lab teacher, but it was still funny. Which brought up another point.

"I already graduated," Steph pointed out, "so I have all the time in the world, but what are you doing here?"

It was a Tuesday, after all.

Jason shrugged. "Considering how ahead of my studies I am—and that Dad practically _bankrolls_ Gotham Academy—they were willing to give me some time off for a single-person field trip."

She snorted as they marched out the door to rejoin Tim. "Seriously? That's what they called it?"

He grinned. "Had to write it off on my record somehow. Might as well make it official."

Her head shook slowly as Tim caught sight of them and waved toward a nearby alley.

"Come on," he said, "Dick's gonna join us in a bit. They're almost to the slug."

Stephanie nodded, and they followed him down the alley around to the back of the building. Jason held his PDA up to the back wall of the restaurant, frowning when he didn't find a hole anywhere near the same height as the one inside. Tim cleared his throat and nudged Jason's arm with his elbow, pointing much, much higher.

Jason and Steph's jaws dropped simultaneously.

"Wait," she said, "you said a twenty-five degree entry, right? That high up, the wall's gotta be—"

"Four and a half feet of solid, steel-reinforced concrete, plus the brick masonry we saw inside," Jason interrupted in awe, staring at the deep-scan readout on his PDA. He frowned and took a closer look at the scan. "With very little—if any—deviation to the flight path, even going through the steel."

Tim turned the other way and measured the approximate angle of the shot, eyes widening a second later. "The closest building at the right angle to make that shot is almost half a mile away."

Steph's brows hiked upward. "Half a mile to slow down, and it still punched through no problem? What kinda round _does_ that?"

"This one," came a new voice from the alley.

Dick strode up to them holding up a plastic zip-bag with "EVIDENCE" printed on the side. And a very large, bloodied slug inside.

"CSU finally dug it up," he added. "Not quite sure what I'm looking at here, and we won't know until we get it back to the lab, but there are a few things that jump out immediately." Dick angled it for the others to see more closely. "See the grooves on the sides, that start near the tip?"

Tim nodded. "Like a drill bit. The tip, too, though…it seems different." His eyes narrowed. "Is that… _diamond_?"

Stephanie whistled through her teeth. "If it is, that's one expensive bullet. Which means it'll be rare."

Dick nodded and lowered the bag. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Which is why you're heading back to the lab with CSU. I want you to dig up everything you can on the bullet: the composition, who makes it, and who'd be in the market for one."

"You got it," she replied with a nod, taking the bag from him and heading back toward the alley.

…

"In the meantime," Tim said, "we should dig into the owner's background. Expensive bullets and that kind of distance means an expensive shooter, a professional."

"Plus they shot this guy through a wall with no windows," Jason added, "which usually means a thermal scope. Again, expensive."

"That's a lot of cost to take out the owner of a diner in a city that sees a ton of regular shootings. Would've been much simpler to walk through the front door and pop him."

"Someone's going through a lot of trouble not to be identified," Dick said, frowning up at the building in the distance. "Tim, Jason, I want you to find out everything you can about the owner; figure out why someone wanted him dead badly enough to hire a pro."

Jason arched a teasing eyebrow. "I thought _you_ were the lead detective on this one?"

Dick smirked. "I'm pursuing other leads. Specifically, who's operating in Blüdhaven that might be capable of taking that shot. Half a mile is nothing to sneeze at in the _best_ conditions, much less how windy it's been today."

"You got it, Detective," Tim said. He nodded toward the alley and motioned to Jason. "Come on, Jason. Let's see if we can't find the shooter's perch; you can do the research on the owner on the way."

He nodded and jogged behind Tim, piling into his Charger after giving Stephanie a quick wave. Ordinarily, police would be less than enthused at having to work with civilian consultants, especially the crime scene unit, which knows its stuff and is proud of it. However, Dragoneye had a reputation, and what little Steph had in introduction was made up for by her consultant's badge. As such, she was helped into their van moments before Jason and Tim pulled off.

"What is it with the Robins and red?" Jason asked suddenly when they were a block away from the crime scene.

Tim glanced at him with a frown. "What?"

He waved at the dashboard. "The car, your suit, the Dragoneye logo."

Tim snorted at the last one, starting to see his point. The Dragoneye logo mimicked its namesake, with red scales around the eyelid and a red outline of the slitted pupil.

"Hell," Jason added, "you're the freakin' _Red_ Robin. Even _Dick's_ suit has—" he stopped short, blinking rapidly, "—oh, oops."

Tim smirked and shrugged, letting that little slip go (at present, Nightwing's suit most certainly did _not_ have red). "Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that most robins are red in some shape or form."

"…fair point." Jason frowned at the tablet in his hands for another minute or so before his face lit up. "Okay, Neal Sorillo, 45, divorced father of three. Immigrated from Bolivia in the '90s, spent the last twelve years living in Blüdhaven, where he founded the restaurant bearing his name." He scrolled down the screen as Tim kept driving. "Place has good reviews, consistent service…and appropriate finances for a business its size, far as I can see."

"Dig a little more into his personal books. If he had criminal dealings since he moved to Blüdhaven, he'd be smart enough to keep it off the company ledger."

"On it."

…

On the way to BPD's crime lab, Stephanie went back to her text conversation with Kara, seeing a long text from the Kryptonian.

[I can certainly get needing some time away from it all. Rao knows I have to escape to the Fortress when Lois and Kal are in a mood—or several moods. That's where I found the earplugs I use now when they stay up…later than me. How does he look otherwise? I know he's trying out a new perspective, but I haven't seen him in the field.]

Steph typed out a reply. [We've spent all of five minutes together in the field. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be comparing, but he looks fine.] She frowned a bit after sending that one off, starting another quickly after. [Why? How bad was he before?]

A minute or so passed before she got a reply. [Not sure how much I should say. A lot of what he told me was really personal.]

[Well, best friends are kinda the exception, right? Besides, he trusted *you* didn't he? And it's not like you've known each other very long.]

[In this time, sure, but in the future we're apparently really close. It's actually kind of scary how much he already knows about me.]

Steph snorted. [Stalker much? Remind you of anyone else we know?]

[* _Kara is typ—erasing—typing…_ *]

[I mean, I know him from school, and he didn't strike me as the type to just up and leave, but…]

[He's not.]

[…okay]

[Jason is…intense.]

[Now *that* I know.]

[On our first date, when everything went pear-shaped, you should've seen how disappointed he looked with himself.]

[Okay, and?]

[Steph, he's…I don't know how to describe it. He knows when I'm feeling out of sorts and when I need cheering and what my favorite milkshake is.]

Stephanie snickered. [Ooooh, milkshakes, that's the most important part]

[:P He's a sweetheart, Steph. That's my point. Definitely takes after Diana.]

[Well that one's obvious. XD But no, I'm glad to hear it. He's definitely easier to get along with than his brother, that's for sure. I'd hate to have to kick his ass for messing with you.]

[With or without his powers, I'm not sure you could if it really came down to it. XP]

[-_-]

[Face it, Steph. You've been out of the game for a while, and whatever their opinion of him, he's as obsessive about fighting as any Amazon I've ever seen. He took down PHILIPPUS, for Rao's sake. AND Richard Dragon.]

Stephanie's eyebrows hiked upward. [Now that I didn't know. And he's what, 15?]

[Biologically, yeah. Chronologically…like negative four months]

[Lol]

[Steph? Keep an eye on him, okay?]

[Kara, he's tagging along with two of the world's greatest detectives and me. He's gonna be fine.]

[I know. Just making sure. Super or not, I can't be everywhere at once, and I'd really rather not have that handsome face all scratched up.]

Stephanie grinned. [Oooh, so it's safe to say you find him attractive? I bet that intensity of his does *wonders* for you. ;P]

[Ugh, puns, just no. And oh my Rao YES it's so hot, which is a serious problem]

[Lol why?]

[Because I'm starting to think I have a thing for bad boys]

[Girl, who doesn't?] She smirked and kept typing before Kara could answer. [Also, changing subjects, I could still really use a roommate. You heard back from your first or second choice yet?]

[*sigh* not yet. I sent in my portfolio a week ago, but considering the usual number of applicants, I expect it's gonna take some time yet.]

[Parsons is pretty particular, but you're an amazing designer, K. Hell, you design for WONDER WOMAN. You made Diana's wedding dress, for frick's sake. I bet if you reference that, it'll boost your place a couple dozen slots. Hired to make the wedding dress of the most powerful woman in Gotham, now *that's* a recommendation if I've ever seen one.]

[Crap, why didn't I even think of that?]

Stephanie laughed. [See? This is what best friends are for. :D]

[THANK YOU. Also, you should reserve the place no matter what happens with Parsons. I can commute to my safety schools just as easily from New York.]

[K, I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, we're approaching the crime lab. Talk later.]

[Sure. Thanks for listening, Steph. :)]

[Again, what are best friends for? Luv ya c:]

[Haha love you too]

…

"Okay, I can't tell if I'm doing this wrong, but this Sorillo guy looks clean. Like, really super clean."

Tim glanced at Jason as they stepped out onto the eighth floor of the parking structure they'd traced the shot to. "What do you mean?"

He huffed, frowning down at his tablet. "I mean, there's nothing off about his financials, nothing in his e-mails, call logs, family life. He and his ex-wife parted amicably with joint custody of the kids, he pays his taxes and bills on time, couple parking tickets and a citation for fire lane violation, but other than that nothing."

Tim reached for the tablet, looking over Jason's findings himself and frowning harder once he reached the end. "I don't get it. You don't hire an assassin to take out an ordinary chef."

"I agree, but if there was a reason to pop this guy, it's not in his digital life."

His head shook slowly. "We'll come back to that, then. For now, let's see if we can find our shooter's perch."

Jason nodded and pulled out his PDA as he tucked the tablet back into his bag. The same scanning module popped up, sweeping over the area near the concrete guardrail nearest the restaurant. Tim did the same in another area, the pair slowly making their way toward each other.

"Got something!" Tim shouted.

Jason rushed over to him, peering at the screen of Tim's PDA to see three faint imprints in a triad pattern. "Tripod?"

"That's what I'm thinking." Tim frowned and zoomed in slightly, sending a faint sonar pulse into the concrete. "You see that?"

"Yeah, like tiny screw holes."

"Leaves behind minimal trace but maximizes stability. If it weren't for the scanner, I wouldn't even have seen it. If the difficulty of the shot wasn't enough indication, this guy's definitely a pro." Tim looked around and winced at the lack of security cameras. "Check track marks around this spot. He'd have had to unpack his equipment here if he went through this much preparation."

Jason stared at him blankly. "Dude. This is a _parking garage_."

Tim grimaced. "Yeah, fair enough." Something occurred to him then, and he snapped his fingers toward the ramp down. "Check the cameras at the exit and see who drove out around the time of the murder."

Jason's eyes lit up as he nodded. "You got it. Aaaand…I'm in. Checking…no…no…wait—nope…ooh, ooh got something! Mismatched plates and vehicle." He tilted the tablet to show Tim. "Hang on, let me see if the driver…crap."

"The cap's covering too much of his face," Tim bemoaned. His eyes narrowed as he zoomed in on the grainy black-and-white image. "But…the cap itself is a marker. Can you enhance the logo on the front?"

"I can try," Jason replied. "Loading and…oh, he's a Gotham Knights fan. How ironic is _that_?"

Tim sighed. "Still doesn't help us ID him."

"But based on his body type, at least we do know it's a he."

Tim's lips pursed as he turned back to the imprints. "And now that we know where the tripod was set up, maybe we can figure a bit more about him." He looked toward the restaurant, pulling a small scope out of his bag and angling it toward the building.

"Trying to map out the trajectory?"

He nodded. "He'd want to stand as straight as possible for maximum comfort, so if we can determine the bullet's approximate flight path, we should be able to figure out his height, or close to it." Tim activated the laser sight on the end of his scope and fixed it to the hole they'd found in the concrete exterior of the building. The PDA picked up the infrared signature it left behind and overlaid the projection of Sorillo's body and the bullet's end location. "Okay, so factoring in the approximate speed of an average .50 BMG slug and the fact that the path barely changed going through the wall…" the PDA projected a line from the wall to the garage, slightly curved downward to account for gravity, "the bullet was approximately fired from…sixty inches off the ground. That puts our shooter around six to six-three."

"Okay," Jason said with a nod, "so we have…male, six/six-three, professional shooter, most likely SWAT or ex-military, with enough money to buy a thermal scope, a fifty cal, and specialized rounds that can punch through concrete without deflecting at all."

Tim cocked his head and dialed Dick, patching in Stephanie. "Yeah, can't be too many of those operating in the U.S." He heard a click from the other end of the call.

"Hey," Dick answered, "what have you got?"

"Yeah," Tim switched to speaker mode, "Jason and I compiled a rough physical profile: male, six to six-three, drove a…I want to say 1986 Mustang, dark color. It's definitely an older model."

Stephanie's voice perked up. "And we just finished analysis on the slug. You were right, Tim—diamond-tipped, with a tungsten carbide body patterned like a drill-head to reduce friction. This thing was engineered to punch through walls; with enough force, at just the right angle, it could penetrate _tank_ armor. Just _one_ of these goes for around $8000."

"On what market?" Dick asked. "Who's selling?"

"I don't know Blüdhaven as well as you and Tim, but it looks like marketing is limited to word of mouth. I've only seen a handful of these in the database, and most of them aren't in Blüdhaven. Hell, one or two of these have been used by _Deadshot_. You don't think—"

"No way," Jason interrupted. "We put him away the night of the wedding, and after Red's warning shot, I doubt he'd want to set foot outside of prison."

The silence that answered him was deafening.

Jason threw Tim a questioning look at the inquisitive expression on his face. "What?"

"What warning shot?" Dick asked.

Jason's lips pursed tightly. "The Red Hood was at the wedding…sort of. Waiting in the wings, actually, just in case something popped off. Which it did. But he only interfered when there was imminent danger."

Tim blinked. "To me."

Jason nodded. "He didn't have to kill the guy to stop him. With his aim and the weapon he prefers, he could've taken the bastard's arm off. But a body with a missing face sends a harder message than grievous bodily harm."

"He wasn't awake for that," Dick pointed out.

"No, but prison scuttlebutt would've relayed the message."

Tim stared at him. "You knew he was there the whole time. That's why you jumped in."

Jason blinked and mentally debated answering. But the event was months past and he had a vested interest in getting them off his back. "Let's just say the body count was a _lot_ higher the first time around."

He didn't specify who the bodies were, and they didn't ask.

"My point is," Jason added, "Lawton's in prison and if he's smart, he'll stay there for a good while."

"There is another option based on your description," Dick chimed in. "Adrien Lewis, former USMC Scout Sniper. No permanent residence on record, but he has properties all up and down the East Coast in or near cities that have been the setting of high-profile long-shot killings. He's been a person of interest in most of them due to his military background and proximity, but no one's ever managed to unravel his alibi."

"Wait," Steph said, "you said properties, plural? And he _owns_ them?"

"Yep. Lewis comes from old Virginia money, and he has a considerable stake in Stagg Industries' stock to replenish his funds."

Tim's eyes widened at the profile Dick sent him. "With this much money, he could _buy_ all the alibis he wants."

"Or hire a double to be his alibi," Jason added.

Tim shrugged. "That too. What about the killings themselves?"

"High-profile, like I said," replied Dick. "Politicians, businesspeople, celebrities, mobsters. Anyone who'd have an axe ground against them is fair game, and all with the same caliber weapon: fifty. The few sightings of the shooter have him wearing a red-and-black luchador-style mask. Investigators have Lewis pegged as the killer, but without evidence, they can't make anything stick, and he is extremely careful about destroying anything that can tie back to him. They even assigned him an unofficial codename: Devil Dog, owing to the pattern of his mask and his background as a Marine."

"Any leads on where he is now?" Tim asked.

"Not at the moment, though he has a condo here in Blüdhaven that's definitely worth checking out."

"Want to call SWAT and kick the door down?"

"With what? Vague conjecture based on circumstance?"

"So," Jason drawled, "…want to suit up and kick the door down?"

His maniacal grin earned an eye-roll from Tim.

"Maybe tonight," Dick conceded. "For now, I want to run down this bullet. Stephanie, do you have any idea who manufactures the round?"

"No, but Dragoneye might. Let me check our database." A few moments of silence passed. "Okay, so I'm not sure because it's a super small piece, but the diamond tip has certain identifying markers from AmerTek Industries' weapons division."

"Cross-reference Blüdhaven and the surrounding areas with AmerTek employees, past and present, focusing on—"

"The weapons division, got it. This is gonna take a minute; their security is pretty top-of-the-line."

Jason pulled out his phone and forwarded Lindsey's picture to Kara while he waited. He kept scrolling through his photo feed, frowning all the while. The Decembrists were a growingly formidable player on the world stage, according to Caden's intel, dipping their toes in everything from high-end theft to political assassination. Thus far, no heads of state had been targeted, but with an organization that pervasive, with so many hands in so many pots, he and the rest of the family figured it would only be a matter of time. They had to find these people and squeeze them as soon as possible. Preferably before Christmas, since Alfred had something special planned with the backdrop of Bruce and Diana being newlyweds.

Jason had even (with his parents' permission of course) invited Caden to attend, since Tim was going to be there. He politely turned them down, not only because he'd be busy at the time, but because he was Jewish by adoption. He did, however, send them a late wedding gift: a dual-fragmented obsidian tablet from the 1800s, inscribed with the names of founding members of Gotham's Underground Railroad, honored by Frederick Douglass and the Abolitionists after the Civil War. Joshua and Solomon Wayne's names were etched at the very top.

The look on Alfred's face when he'd seen the tablet was nothing short of awestruck, nearly bringing him to tears. And then he'd taken a second look at it, and—with a sidelong look at Jason—the word "obsidian" clicked for him. Smirking, he'd immediately had an idea of where to mount one half of the priceless artifact. The half with Joshua's name now hung in Jason's bedroom. The other half had been gifted to Damian, two priceless pieces of the Wayne family's history to reflect on, like two sides of the same coin as Joshua and Solomon had been.

In a way, it was a bit unnerving to see the pieces of his old life starting to fall into place in the present. Jason had to continually remind himself that things would be different this time around. Powers or not, he had the same determined spirit as his ancestors, as his parents, and he would put it to good use with every fiber of his being if it killed him.

"Got it!" Stephanie exclaimed. "I'm in. Sorting through now. AmerTek's got some kind of adaptive security algorithm; we've got a narrow window before it locks me out again."

Tim exchanged a look with Jason. "Maybe we should've outsourced this bit to Oracle."

Stephanie's teasing tone quickly answered him. "Oh, so I'm not good enough for you anymore, is that it?"

Tim snorted and rolled his eyes with a grin, not dignifying that with an answer.

"Yahtzee! Bixby Rhodes."

Dick's snarl could be heard clearly.

Tim's eyes narrowed with the same emotion.

Stephanie's voice came through a bit hesitantly. "I take it you two know the name."

"He's gone by a few names in Gotham and the surrounding cities," Dick said, "but his most prevalent alias is Roadrunner. He's a notorious weapons dealer all up and down the East Coast. If Devil Dog wants specialized rounds, he's the one to go to. Batman managed to bust him a few years ago on a technicality of his 'legitimate'—read _front_ —side business's finances. But he's been careful not to leave behind anything that could put him away for good."

"Seems discretion is something he and Lewis have in common," Jason posited.

"Which is probably why he went to him," Tim agreed. "Do we have a local address, or do we have to go all the way to Gotham?"

"Give me a sec," Steph said. "Okay, yeah, he has a few locations for his 'auto' business, and one of them is in downtown Blüdhaven."

"His connection to AmerTek and the ballistics used in this murder make him a person of interest," Dick said.

"Which gives us every reason in the book to go talk to him."

"He won't talk to us. Not as ourselves, anyway. And he didn't talk to Batman either."

"Which means we won't be intimidating him into flipping on Lewis," Jason said with a frown. "The only people he seems to talk to are criminals."

Tim smiled malevolently. "Then let's get him face-to-face with a criminal."

…

A little under two hours later, right as the sun was going down, a young man with messy brown hair stepped through the doors of Rhodes' dealership, surrounded on all sides by foreign names and sparkling auto bodies across the color spectrum. A faint scar decorated the right side of his face, and his hazel eyes flitted over the cars before landing on a balding, bespectacled man on the far side of the room, bustling about in a motorized wheelchair. The man in the chair handed a clipboard off to one of his employees, a mechanic by the look of him, before catching sight of the new arrival.

He looked him over appraisingly as he approached the chair with a swagger.

"Bixby Rhodes?" asked hazel-eyes with a thick Bostonian accent.

He arched an eyebrow behind his glasses. "Who's asking?"

He smiled and extended a hand. "Alvin Draper."

Rhodes took his hand. "I've heard your name mentioned in some circles."

"All good things, I hope," he said with a grin.

"We'll see. What can I do for you, Mr. Draper?"

"I was looking for a bit of hardware when I heard about something…troublesome happening in the city. One of my clients asked me to look into it while I was here."

Rhodes frowned. "Something troublesome? And you came to my shop?"

Alvin waved at the cars behind him. "I know this ain't the only 'hardware' you've got lyin' around, _Roadrunner_."

He tensed, as did the men around the dealership, but smiled amicably and waved him toward the back. "Let's talk about this in my office, shall we?"

Alvin's features remained flat. "I think I'll stay right here thank you."

"Please," Rhodes said, eyes narrowed threateningly, "I _insist_."

Draper's right hand drifted into his jacket pocket, a bulge emerging at the front pointed in the direction of Rhodes' approaching employees. "The .45 in my pocket insists _harder_. Now, unless you wanna make a mess of all these nice rigs, let's sit down and have a discussion like rational men." He smirked and waved at Rhodes' wheelchair with his empty hand. "Though I see we're already halfway there."

Rhodes' jaw clenched for a moment before he waved his men to a standby and motioned Draper to a nearby chair. Alvin kept his hand in his pocket and one eye on the bystanders as Rhodes wheeled up to him.

"What do you want?" asked Rhodes.

"I got a tip from one of my contacts in BPD about a murder committed this morning," Draper drawled, picking at his fingernails. "Apparently, there were some _very_ expensive munitions involved. Very specialized, rare, and…proprietary, by all indications."

His fingers steepled, eyes half-lidded as he leaned back. "And what does that have to do with me? Or you, for that matter?"

"Neal Sorillo was a local boss for the Sinaloa Cartel, a gateway between north and south, given Blüdhaven's port status. They don't appreciate having one of their own taken out without permission, and offered me a pretty hefty commission to trace the culprit."

Rhodes' features paled visibly as he pulled a small device out of his pocket and laid it on the table. Alvin recognized it as a portable signal jammer.

Nevertheless, Rhodes kept his tone level. "Again, what does this have to do with me?"

Alvin's eyes darkened. "Don't play dumb with me, Rhodes. Anyone who knows iron knows you're the man to go to for specialized rounds on the East Coast. It's a wonder the Feds haven't busted you yet, for how much your name gets passed around."

"Usually because I don't have conversations like this out in the open."

He smiled. "Why do you think I decided to talk in _your_ house? Having your little operation dragged out into the open wouldn't help either of us, Mr. Rhodes. The cartel doesn't even care that you're involved—unless you get in the way of finding out who pulled the trigger. Point of fact, they gave me _carte blanche_ to pay you handsomely for information on whoever bought the goods, as well as an exclusive contract to provide their eastern operatives with hardware for the foreseeable future."

Alvin saw the gears turning in Rhodes' head, piles of gold and bills stacking in his mind's eye.

Still, Rhodes frowned and sighed. "Look, a big part of the service is discretion. If I start selling out my clients for a quick buck, my reputation goes down the drain and my business with it."

Draper leaned in, voice lowered threateningly. "And how much of your 'business' do you think will be left once El Jefe gets wind that you've impeded my investigation? He can't let one of his own get whacked unanswered. A message has to be sent, Mr. Rhodes. That can be the shooter…or it can be you and yours." He shrugged. "It's just business; I'm sure you understand."

Rhodes turned the situation over in his head for about a minute before sighing hard. "Look, I can't give you a name; he paid in cash and wore a mask the whole time."

Alvin blinked and reached into his inside jacket pocket, pulling out a grainy colorized photo of Devil Dog pulled off a Boston traffic camera. "Did it look like this?"

He saw recognition in Rhodes' eyes before he nodded. "Yeah, that's him. He wanted a .50 round that could punch through just about anything and a top-of-the-line thermal scope with deep-scanning capabilities. Got him prototype military hardware that fit the bill. He paid a pretty penny for it too, with extra for _discretion_." He sent Draper a small glare at that.

Alvin smiled and leaned in slightly. "Trust me, when we're finished with him, you'll be the least of his worries." He tapped the desk twice with his palm as he stood and turned for the door. "We'll be in touch."

He exited the shop a minute later, entering a nearby alley and climbing a fire escape to reach a roof overlooking the dealership. There, three others were perched with a significant surveillance setup, including a long-range laser mic and a telephoto camera with integrated lip-reading transcription software. The latter was one of several reasons he'd been facing the inside of the building, forcing Rhodes to face the exit. Alvin pulled off his wig and gingerly removed a set of colored contact lenses, returning himself to black hair and blue eyes.

"You get all that?" Tim asked as he ruffled his chafing scalp.

"Oh yeah," Steph answered. "More than enough for an arrest."

"Assuming any of it is admissible in court," Jason grunted. "We only got Rhodes' name from hacking into AmerTek's employee database."

"That's the thing," Tim said with a shrug as he sat next to them, "once you know the end result, it's easy to create an alternative—and legal—trail leading there."

Dick held up a folded paper and handed it to Jason. "Which I did. Surveillance warrant on one Bixby Rhodes for his place of business under suspicion of illegal arms dealing and complicity in the murder of Neal Sorillo." He scooted back and stood up, pulling his phone out. "Just gotta call this in and we'll be ready to take him in."

" _Then_ can we go kick down Lewis' door?" Jason asked excitedly.

Tim's lips pursed and he shook his head. "Rhodes didn't have anything implicating Lewis, only a description of Devil Dog." He smirked. "Doesn't mean we can't take a closer look at his place, just not officially."

Jason nodded. "So, tonight?"

"Tonight," he confirmed.

Dick came back with a smirk. "The warrant's being drawn up now. SWAT should be able to move in just after sunset, which leaves us to handle Lewis."

Stephanie glanced back at them with a frown. "One thing still doesn't make sense though: that line about Sorillo and the cartel was complete BS, so what was a pro hitman doing going after him?"

Tim frowned. "Well, hopefully we'll be able to ask him tonight." He met her eyes. "Hey, Steph…I know you're not comfortable being in the field right now, but…I'd rather not exclude you from…you know."

She blinked and frowned at the gravel roof, looking back up at him a second later. "Tech support?"

"With the drones?"

"Yeah."

He smiled. "Sure. Make sure he doesn't run."

Steph smiled back and nodded. "It'll be good practice for the summit."

Tim shrugged and waved at her. "There ya go." He clapped softly, getting Jason's attention. "Let's take it apart, guys. Get moving."

"I'll put a unit on Rhodes," Dick said, "make sure he doesn't skip town after 'Alvin Draper's' little visit."

Off to the side, Jason grinned. "This is gonna be _fun_."

…

Adrien Lewis, as it turned out, was a narcissistic prick, as evidenced by the near-invariable wall-to-wall mirrors in his two-story apartment. And the gold sculptures. _And_ the ostentatious portraits of himself hanging in the main second-story hallway. And that was just what they could see from outside with the lights off. A once-over with sonar and thermal scans revealed no signs of life inside, but there were ways to defend against that, and if he was as careful (read paranoid) about anonymity and safety as he seemed, Lewis probably built a panic room into his apartment. Given his background as a Marine Scout Sniper, they wouldn't put booby traps past him either, especially since there was every indication he lived alone.

"Spoiler," Red Robin spoke into his mic, "you're on the perimeter. Any movement in or outside the apartment, you let us know."

"You got it," Stephanie replied, two mini-drones hovering and lifting above the buildings to overlook the target area.

"Spoiler?" Jason asked.

"Yes?"

"No, I mean…why the codename change?"

"Oh, well…I'm not Batgirl anymore; she was always more of a field agent, so…"

"Oh. Makes sense." Jason glanced at Red Robin and Nightwing, who he gave a slightly longer look, specifically at his signature bluebird symbol. Clearing his throat, he opened his commlink again. "On that note, slight revision to my codename: Tomorrow Knight."

Both present stared at him.

Nightwing arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "If you think we're calling you that in the middle of—"

"You don't have to say the _whole_ thing," he protested, blushing visibly. "TK works, or you can keep calling me Knight."

Nightwing sighed and shook his head, crouching next to Red Robin, who was noticeably fighting a grin. "We're breaching via the north-side window. We go in quick and quiet." He glanced at Jason. "TK, you're on the west-side window. I want you on the outside, ready to jump in if we flush him in your direction or we need backup."

He nodded. "I'll keep an eye out. Stay safe, guys."

"Will do," Red Robin said, nodding to Nightwing.

They fired their grapnels into the edge of the building's roof, swinging in to perch next to the north-side window as TK relocated to a rooftop on the west side.

"Making entry now," came Red Robin's voice over the commlink.

There was no loud shattering of glass, so he assumed they were using a diamond or laser cutter to work the window. Probably for the best, considering their target's training. Then Jason remembered their bodycams and activated his link to them on the holoprojector built into his left gauntlet. Two screens popped up after a burst of static, giving him a live feed of Nightwing and Red Robin's entry to the apartment.

"We're in," the former whispered. "Beginning sweep."

"I wouldn't expect you to trip over a claymore in there," Spoiler chimed in, "but you never know with paranoid guys like this."

"Roger that," Robin replied softly.

The next few minutes were spent in tense silence as they proceeded further into the building, Nightwing taking the upper floor while Robin stayed low. The inside was just as ostentatiously decorated as the hallways, and Jason had to wonder (not for the first time) how one man could be so conceited. Granted, Wayne Manor had its share of priceless decorations, but that was the family mansion with a collection built over centuries, not some run-of-the-mill hideaway in Blüdhaven. Over the feed, there wasn't a single trace of noise or movement besides the two infiltrators, even over multispectral vision, which they engaged when it became readily apparent that Lewis wasn't home.

The next ten minutes were spent sweeping the place top to bottom for cameras, evidence, and hidden switches.

"Got something!" Robin shouted over comms, his feed placing him in one of the guest bedrooms. "Who puts a candelabra next to drapes this expensive?"

"Someone who doesn't think it'll ever be lit," Nightwing replied as he twisted the device in question ninety degrees left.

They were rewarded with a click and slide-back of a false wall, a closer look at the building itself revealing that the room was far too small for its outside appearance. Inside was, well…

"Jackpot," Robin cheered softly.

"Damn," Stephanie muttered, "that doesn't look too different from Oracle's setup in the Clock Tower."

Computer towers and monitors lined the walls from corner to corner, a set of overlapping monitors making up a single enlarged feed in the center. It was all inactive at present, but after Red Robin cautiously hit a key on the central keyboard, the central feed lit up with the Blüdhaven news, immediately tuning to recorded and looped coverage of Roadrunner's arrest halfway across the city.

"That's…a little _too_ coincidental, don't you think?" asked Jason.

"Definitely," Nightwing answered as he plugged a thumb drive into one of the computers' USB ports. "Spoiler, I'm jacking you in. See what you can do about dredging the hard drive. Get us something we can use."

"Got it. Dang…whoever built this encryption knew what they were doing. Lewis must've paid them a pretty penny."

"He's got CCTV on a closed network, looks like," Red Robin said. "He'll know we were here unless we can wipe the feeds. Spoiler, think you can do it?"

"Maybe…"

TK arched an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Look, I'm not as good at this as Oracle, but even if I were, the cypher on this drive is a two-key system; it doesn't work without a physical component that we don't have."

Nightwing cursed under his breath. "Great. Talk about paranoid."

Jason frowned and idly fingered the pouch on his belt containing his time-capsule.

"In other news," Spoiler said, "it looks like Lewis chartered a private flight out of Blüdhaven an hour before you got there."

"Did he take off already?" Robin asked.

"As soon as the pre-flight check was done."

"Where does it list as his destination?"

"Hang on…the airport has much weaker security than that drive…got it! Crap."

"What?" Jason asked.

"He's flying non-stop to one of his properties in Buenos Aires."

"Argentina? The hell is he doing in Argentina? Another contract?"

"That wouldn't be my guess," Nightwing replied. "If Lewis was tuned to the news an hour back, then he knew Rhodes got pinched before we got here and skedaddled."

"Then…why Argentina?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Robin asked.

TK blinked twice. "No?"

"Argentina has no extradition treaty with the U.S."

He blinked again before smacking the helmet's forehead. " _Ohhhh_ …crap, I forgot that was still a thing."

"…it's not in the future?"

"Nope. The U.N. got fed up with their tendency to harbor criminals and basically sanctioned them into bankruptcy until they passed an international extradition treaty in 2025."

"Not to complain," Nightwing said, "but why'd they wait so long? You'd think after harboring Nazis and murderous drug lords, the international community would've had enough."

Jason frowned. "There was an…incident the previous year. I can't say more."

"…gotcha. Anyway, we're not going to learn anything more here. Spoiler, I'm gonna pull the drives so you can try cracking them later."

"If we can't get him extradited, what's the point?"

He could hear the smirk in Nightwing's voice. "Argentina won't extradite him, but that doesn't mean _we_ can't. Still, I'd rather have enough evidence for a conviction before we take that risk."

"I'll see what I can do," Spoiler said, "but I make no promises. Whoever designed this system wanted only one person to be able to access it. Without that physical key…"

"Just do the best you can, S," Robin interrupted.

"Yeah, sure."

Knight sighed hard as he cut their feeds and sat back. "So…that's it, then? This case goes dead until we get something more substantive?"

"Not quite," Nightwing said. "I get the feeling Rhodes is going to be a little chattier now that he's in custody. Especially if he thinks Lewis knows he talked."

"How would we pull _that_ off? BPD can't report that to the public, for his safety. If the news is his only source of info, Lewis couldn't have found out."

"No, but we can make him think he did," Red Robin said. "Spoiler, how quick do you think you can spoof a newscast of a PSA about Devil Dog?"

She hummed for a second or two. "Give me ninety minutes and a green screen."

"You'll find everything you need at Dragoneye. Make sure Rhodes' name is dropped as a source of info; he made a deal to testify against Devil Dog, whose identity will be uncovered during the trial once he's brought in."

"Oooh, that's _beautiful_."

TK chuckled darkly. "You've got a twisted mind, Rob."

"If it gets the job done…"

…

A wig, some makeup, and a bit of green screen turned out more than enough for Stephanie to produce a masterpiece of fake news. Jason would've made a crack about taking the play out of the IMF's handbook, but he remembered last minute that that reference wouldn't make sense for another seven months.

" _We cannot reveal his name at this time,_ " Stephanie said in her best newscaster voice on the recorded video, " _but rest assured, authorities will not rest until this deranged killer and the rest of his accomplices are brought to justice._ "

Detective Grayson stopped the video there, watching with no small amount of glee how pale Rhodes had become, his cuffed hands whitening with how tightly they were fisted.

"Now," Dick said, "I'd be perfectly happy to keep you out of gen-pop at county jail, but you need to be straight with me."

Rhodes snorted derisively, trying to save face. "That's nonsense. I couldn't have talked if I wanted to."

"Please, sir," his attorney interrupted. The swarthy man glared at Dick. "My client is not about to further incriminate himself to answer a baseless accusation."

Dick shrugged. "He already incriminated himself plenty when he copped to supplying Devil Dog with the means of killing Mr. Sorillo. That's accessory to murder-one; twenty-five to _life_ in this state. And that's assuming he doesn't have you killed in prison to cover his bases."

"Are you _threatening_ my client?"

Another shrug and shake of the head. "Just pointing out that this assassin has only escaped capture this long because he is _obsessive_ about eliminating potential evidence." He leaned in threateningly. "I doubt he'd make an exception for you, given the circumstances." Dick waved at the frozen video to hammer his point home.

Rhodes' face was stony and white as he gulped.

"After all," Dick said, holding back a smile as he saw the cracks, "the news is never wrong, right?"

The lawyer exchanged a nervous glance with Rhodes before saying, "I'd like a word with my client."

He shrugged and crossed his arms, leaning back against the far wall. "Take all the time you need."

Dick smirked at the one-way glass, behind which Tim, Jason, Stephanie, and two other homicide detectives were watching.

Jason's head shook slowly. "He's good."

Tim grinned. "It helps when you have a good team backing you."

Finally, the lawyer turned back to Dick and sighed in resignation. "I've instructed Mr. Rhodes to cooperate with you fully, with the stipulation that he be kept in solitary confinement for the duration of any prison sentence, before or after trial."

"Done," Dick replied, sitting back down. "Now, tell me about Devil Dog."

Rhodes licked his lips nervously. "He showed up out of the blue a couple days ago, asking for a round and sights that could penetrate military-grade armor of the highest caliber, so I used my AmerTek connections to get a hold of some prototype gear and charged him a pretty penny for it."

"He paid in cash, you said before."

A nod. "Real careful about saying anything more than what he needed to."

"Well, what _did_ he say, apart from his specs?"

Rhodes gulped and took a moment to think. "He…he said that he'd be back if the gear turned out to be what he needed."

Dick's lips pursed. "And was he?"

He sighed. "Yes. Not long after your 'friend' left, he stopped by with another bag of cash."

"What did he want?"

"More…more rounds."

Dick's eyes widened. "How _many_ more?"

"…ten. At least two full mags for the model he was using."

Grayson cursed under his breath and stood up, pacing the room.

Jason frowned. "I wonder if he knew Rhodes was about to get busted and wanted some insurance, just in case his supply ran out?"

"If he came in right after we left," Tim said, arms crossed, "then that'd be my guess. His instincts are damn good to have avoided capture this long, so chances are he made me—or you guys on the gear—before I even went in."

"Do you have any idea where he's going now?" Dick asked, voice agitated.

Rhodes shook his head. "I don't know who he is, or what he's after. I just made the gear and gave it to him."

Grayson sighed hard. "You're a dumbass." He opened the door and waved a uniformed officer in. "Wheel him to the van. We're done here." A minute later, he stepped into the viewing room with the others. "Well, that's that."

"So what now?" asked one of the detectives.

"Not sure. Devil Dog is in the wind, and if we're right about his identity, I don't think he's coming back to the States for a good while. Unless we get something solid on him on this end, this case is gonna have to go into cold storage for now."

The Blüdhaven detectives sighed and clapped Dick on the shoulder on their way out.

"In the meantime," Tim said, "Dragoneye will keep trying to crack that drive, see if we can reverse-engineer the physical component Steph was talking about."

Dick nodded. "Sure. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help." He looked to Jason, who was typing away on his phone. "Sorry today was kind of a wash, kiddo."

Jason looked up at him quizzically. "What are you talking about? I mean, yeah, we didn't get our guy, _yet_ , but we took an arms dealer off the streets and forced Devil Dog on the run. Something tells me he'll be back sooner than later."

"And what tells you that?"

Jason smirked malevolently. "He's a narcissist. Splurging money to kill someone with no visible enemies in a way that's outrageously difficult? Sounds an awful lot like someone with a point to prove, to himself if no one else."

"You don't think this was a contract hit?" Stephanie asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Sorillo could've been better at hiding a dark past than we gave him credit for, but frankly, Lewis' record reminds me a little too much of Tommy Elliot."

At the mention of that name, all three of the others immediately flashed a scowl, showing they understood.

"Yeah," Tim said darkly, "I see your point."

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see," Dick sighed.

Jason nodded, typing on his phone. "Anyway, if you guys don't need me here, I better start heading home."

"This late?" Stephanie asked. "You're not at least gonna wait 'til the morning?"

He waved her off. "Nah, I can get a late train back to Gotham. Besides, I have school tomorrow. And _we_ have the summit to prepare for in a few weeks."

Stephanie's lips pursed tightly as she pulled him into a brief hug. "Well, be careful. And let us know when you're home safe."

"Roger that," he replied with a grin and two-fingered salute.

He and Tim bro-hugged before he shook hands with Dick and let himself be escorted out of the station. On the way to the train station, Jason surreptitiously plugged his time-capsule into his phone, checking the record for Blüdhaven murders around that time and found no mention of Neal Sorillo. Frowning, he shut the drive down and stared off into the distance.

 _People in Blüdhaven are murdered all the time. If not him, it would've been someone else._

Yet these repeated deviations weighed on him more and more as time went on. Which brought him to the big question: when it came down to it, could he really put an end to his future? Sacrifice everything to give his family a chance to be happy? He told Damian he'd gladly watch the world burn if it meant bringing back his parents, but that was only too easy to say before he'd seen that world up close and personal. Could he willfully do that to someone like Sorillo? Or God forbid, _Lindsey_?

His jaw clenched as he boarded the train with his overnight bag, shuffling into his seat in tense silence. Jason stared out the window a long time, considering these questions, before deciding—with every pun intended—only time would tell.

* * *

AN: Okay, so this one is a two-parter, owing to the fact that I don't want to consistently publish 18K words per chapter. That's just a pain. Part two should be out soon—I just need to finish up a scene or two—but I'd like some comments on this one first. As I have continually discovered while penning this story, writing in the mystery genre is _hard_. It's a hella complicated process in multiple respects, a top-down kind of setup that forces you to think twelve to twenty steps ahead.

Fortunately, I have a lot of background with mystery stories like the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but it doesn't make it any less of a headache to process all the details needed to make it interesting. So, please let me know if this all made sense.

More to come soon.

Drake out.


	13. Case File 4: Devil Dog, Part II

It was foggy air and an overcast sky that greeted New York City on Christmas Eve. The flags around the United Nations building were lit up in silver haze from the floodlights reflecting off the fog. Something the rest of the entrance shared when one motorcade after another piled into the parking circuit, each flying diplomatic flags. The first three belonged to the infamous dictatorship known as Bialya, the two that followed belonging to the neighboring Qurac. Before the Olympus war, Qurac had been a well-known state sponsor of terrorism in the region, but in a surprising twist of fate, the previous regime head had disappeared in a duel between Shazam and Hecate that, when all was said and done, had spanned most of the Middle East.

Following that incident, Qurac had been plagued with a brief but intense rebellion against the military factions that attempted to fill the power vacuum and held their first free elections six months later. Relations between Qurac and Bialya had been understandably strained since then, given that their interests had often aligned in the past. The world had practically been betting on who would be the first to start slinging missiles over the border ever since, despite numerous attempts by various diplomatic powers to mediate the dispute. All those efforts finally culminated in this summit, a sit-down with an impartial mediator from Switzerland.

Granted, being in the room with a succubus-like dictator with acute pheromone control and her psychic manservant tended to make some people nervous. So, to counter this, the U.N. brought in Wonder Woman and the cybernetically-enhanced Swiss agent Sasha Bordeaux as…insurance. Neither diplomatic party was aware of the additional presence of Batman, though that was for good reason, since he was disguised as a member of the Swiss delegation to keep a close, invisible eye on the Bialyans. Bordeaux, an old friend of Bruce's, had actually come to him and asked for his and Diana's help as a personal favor, which was how he ended up with the necessary spoofed identity and clearance.

Even the floor they'd chosen for the meeting was double and triple-secured, with wall-to-wall ballistic glass developed by DARPA for use in military housing in war zones, capable of withstanding direct hits from artillery and air strikes. All in all, a solid setup to discourage all parties from doing something stupid and keep them safe if they did.

Even so, the amount of alien and future tech that floated around the global market at any given point led Bruce and Diana to bring in Jason and Stephanie to mind the perimeter just in case. The only reason Damian hadn't been brought in was his currently busy schedule leading the Titans. Stephanie's drones were set on rotating circuits several blocks out from the building, and Jason was posted in a trailer jacked into the building's internal and external security cameras—as well as those drone feeds—some five blocks from the U.N. The distance was supposed to be deterrent for him interfering if something popped up. Despite his repeated confrontation of big-time criminals, this was an international incident waiting to happen, and Jason didn't have the experience necessary to be directly involved.

At least, that's what they told him.

Which left him bored and munching on cheese puffs in the trailer while scanning the faces of the delegation for any known criminals his parents might've missed—not that they would. That Queen Bee—or the Quraci prime minister—could've hired a shapeshifter was a concern he brought up repeatedly. His parents had put him at ease by reminding him that face and body were not the only identifiers of an assassin. Body language would tell them everything they needed to know before they struck, and even if Batman wasn't fast enough to get there in time, Wonder Woman was.

Unlike her husband, Diana was arrayed in her classic red, gold, and blue uniform, with blue Kevlar leggings similar to her Gotham uniform, but slightly lighter in color. Bordeaux's pant-suit getup would fit in with the U.N. security team if not for the dull blue cybernetics filling in for her right arm, left hand, and left eye. Bruce was equipped with a set of hazel contacts, a brown wig, and an outrageously thick beard to conceal his identity (Diana had teased him about it ruthlessly while he put it on, claiming "sophisticated lumberjack" was a good look on him). Out in the trailer, Jason was outfitted in his suit, which he'd insisted on bringing along despite their insistence he not get involved. At present, his cowl was retracted into the collar and his helmet sat on the desk unattended.

Loud crunches filled the otherwise silent trailer as he chomped down another cheese puff, dark eyes flickering over the screens with absent attentiveness. He watched as Queen Bee and his mother exchanged empty pleasantries and thinly veiled glares on their way in. The delegations were sent up to the tenth floor in separate elevators with U.N. and Swiss security posted with each one to keep watch over them. As an additional precaution, Batman had supplied the security team with an inoculation he'd developed specifically to counter Queen Bee's pheromone powers to prevent her from getting any inside agents.

That wouldn't protect them from Psimon's telepathic attacks, but his influence wasn't exactly subtle and would throw up all kinds of red flags long before they got their chance to strike. Of the two, Psimon was definitely the greater overall threat, given his additional telekinetic abilities, but even he could only hold out so long against a superior physical force like Wonder Woman. Still, Jason frowned at the meta's exposed brain with no small measure of disgust as the security personnel in the elevator with him shuffled uncomfortably. For Psimon, it was like flashing an AR-15 in public—which was the whole point.

Finally, they stepped off the elevators and moved quietly toward the meeting room, whose window faced the skyline of Manhattan to the west. If he looked out the trailer's window and squinted _really_ hard, he could just make out the tenth floor where they'd soon be. Sighing, Jason turned back to the monitors and popped another puff into his mouth, checking the feeds from Stephanie's drones.

"Mic check," came Bruce's whispered voice.

"Check," Jason replied quickly.

"Check," Steph said.

"Check," answered Sasha and Diana in tandem, loudly, as if complying with a regular mic check for the security team.

"Eyes peeled, everyone," said Bordeaux. "Let's make sure this goes as smoothly as possible."

"Roger that," Jason muttered around another cheese puff.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Diana scolded mildly.

His eyes rolled. "Yes, _Mom_."

He could hear Stephanie and Sasha snickering under their breath.

Jason leaned back as they made their way through the twisted halls and security checkpoints of the U.N., glancing over at his tablet, which was peppered with images and reports from BPD about the Sorillo case. There was still no record of Lewis having returned from Argentina, but also no reports of him being there either. A guy that rich, with that much of an ego, not making a splash? That was like Bruce Wayne's wedding not making the front page of every newspaper on the East Coast.

He'd been tossing around possibilities with Tim, Steph, and Dick for the last couple weeks. The predominant theory was that he'd actually never left the country, or fibbed his flightplan and diverted his plane elsewhere, presumably for a job. Still, there had been no sightings of Devil Dog since Rhodes' arrest, and though Dick was loathe to admit it, he was starting to think this case would have to go into an uncomfortably large pile of cold ones. At first, Tim and Jason had agreed that his unhealthy ego wouldn't allow him to be inactive that long, but he was a high-functioning sociopathic assassin, not an unhinged serial killer. If Lewis was smart enough to suppress his addiction in favor of pragmatism, it'd be _months_ before they got another shot at him.

And speaking of shots…Jason eyed the drone feeds with renewed interest after verifying that none of the delegates were known criminals to his recollection. The surrounding buildings weren't exactly ideal for taking potshots at the U.N., but the fact that the meeting room faced the skyline was still worrisome. Not that a sniper would be able to get through that glass. Hell, it would take an air-dropped bunker buster just to make a dent, and New York was a well-defended no-fly zone. There were some metahumans for hire capable of doing that much damage, but the ones that jumped to Jason's mind wouldn't get past Wonder Woman.

And then one of the drones at the edge of the perimeter took a wide-angle shot of the skyline on one side, and the U.N. on the other, and Jason frowned.

"Spoiler," he said, specifying frequencies so only Steph could hear him, "stop drone 21E. Hold that angle."

"Why? What's up?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "I don't know…something feels wrong about this shot, the slant of it."

"Your parents are in the room with two known killers…and you're worried about a slant to the buildings?" She hummed, freezing the image he was looking at and sending the drone back on its circuit. "I guess it would be something to keep in mind, if the blinds weren't drawn and there wasn't six inches of explosion-proof glass in the way."

Jason kept frowning, using his tablet to look up the exact specs of that glass. He muttered a bunch of those specs to himself, eyes widening slightly when he spotted something that sent up all kinds of red flags in his subconscious. He snapped back to the still image, using his fingers to mentally calculate the angle between the tenth floor of the U.N. and one of the distant buildings. He quickly looked up that building, heart racing as one piece after another began falling into place in his head.

"Stephanie…the MetLife building, what kind of security do they have on their top floors?"

"Umm…not a lot; they're undergoing construction, so a lot of workers shuttle in and out at all hours of the day. Why?"

"How far is it from the U.N.?"

Stephanie's worried tone began matching Jason's. "A little over half a mile…Jason, what's going on?"

Jason's head shook slowly as his eyes went wide, a profound feeling of dread set upon him. "It wasn't a hit," he breathed.

"What? _What_ wasn't a hit?"

He snarled. " _Idiot_! How could I have missed this?!"

"Jason, _what_?"

"The tensile strength of the glass is capable of withstanding direct impacts and explosions, but it has one _giant_ weakness: shear damage. If struck fast enough by a material hard enough—like, say, _diamond_ —it gives way like a knife through butter."

"Okay, but—"

"Necessity for a thermal scope, half a mile of distance, a shot angle of twenty-six degrees…does _any_ of this seem familiar?"

Steph's tone said everything. "Oh God…"

Jason's teeth bared as he brought up Tim's schematic of the shot that killed Sorillo. "The Blüdhaven case wasn't a hit; it was _proof of concept_. He's _here_!"

Stephanie practically _screamed_ into her mic. "Don't let the Quraci prime minister into the room!"

Diana's tense voice answered first. "He's already inside; what's wrong?"

"Devil Dog has him scoped!" Jason yelled. "Get him out, _now_!"

On the cameras, he saw Wonder Woman immediately snap into action, lunging between the window and the prime minister right as he was about to sit. A split-second later, a blinding flash of sparks emitted from her blurred form, her left bracer glowing faintly where a hard impact had left its mark. An explosion of dust and drywall from another section of the room indicated where the diamond-tipped slug had ricocheted. From behind, Bruce grabbed the prime minister and half-dragged him out the door, Diana staying between him and the window, despite there being blinds in the way.

"Keep on him, Mom!" Jason shouted. "His scope and rounds can go _right_ through the walls!"

"Head to the northwest stairwell," Stephanie added quickly. "That'll put other buildings between you and him. Even if his rounds _could_ pierce through, he won't be able to distinguish his target."

"Got it," Diana uttered, tone hard.

Jason triggered his cowl and donned his helmet as he looked at the MetLife building just a block from his position. "I'm on the shooter."

"Negative," Bruce growled. "I told you to stay out of it."

"Wonder Woman needs to stay on the PM, and you and Bordeaux can't afford to bail until he's away. You really want to risk Lewis missing and hitting someone else?"

"…he's got years of experience and a range advantage on you."

"That's assuming he'll see me coming," Jason growled as he bolted from the trailer and warmed up his custom bike, a gift from Caden as thanks for helping him with Richard Dragon.

"Jason—"

" _Dad_ ," he interrupted sharply, "I wasn't asking permission."

He revved the bike and sped off to Bruce's voice in his ear.

"Don't you _dare_ let him get the better of you," Batman growled. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

The Tomorrow Knight grinned viciously. "Don't worry; I'll show him what the Devil _really_ looks like."

Less than a minute later, after another subsonic crack rang out from eighty stories up, TK stormed into the lobby of the MetLife building and scowled at the receptionist.

"Elevator shaft, now."

The frightened man pointed down the hall, wide-eyed, and stared at the Knight's sprinting form as he shoved the doors open and vanished upward on his grapnel line.

…

"This is all _your_ doing!"

Bruce desperately restrained an eye-roll at the shouting match that had started up between the two delegations despite the urgency of their exit. A second round had flown in at them through the walls before they'd managed to reach the entrance to the stairwell, at which point Bordeaux had sent each party down a separate staircase. Bruce was sent with the Quracis, at their head, in case there was someone coming up the steps. Bordeaux had split off with the Bialyans, who were hurling threats and insults right back.

Wonder Woman stayed with the Quraci PM, since he was obviously the target, though fortunately Stephanie had been right on the money when she said putting buildings between them and the shooter would serve as deterrent. From the little Bruce had heard from Jason and Dick about Devil Dog, his monumental pride was on par with that of Deadshot; he wouldn't take the shot unless he knew it was a sure thing. Which left one last window of opportunity: the motor pool. Question was, could he hit a moving target, because if memory served, the Quraci delegation was parked at just the right angle to obscure the shooter's vision even by thermal.

Bruce's momentary distraction with their exit plan held his attention until he noticed steps coming _up_ the stairs as well as those going down. His brief relief at seeing another U.N. security officer vanished at the look on the man's face—and the three behind him. Before anyone knew what was happening, he vaulted over the bannister and drop-kicked the lead in the chest, sending him rolling back into his armed backup. Shouts and screams came from the delegation as panicked gunfire came from the would-be assassins, ricocheting around the echo chamber and sending clouds of dust and drywall flying everywhere.

"Keep them back!" Batman yelled at the security team.

He lunged forward before any of the four could get a bead on him, a cross knocking the spit out of one before a shin-kick to the gut of the first one he'd hit forced him to finally drop his gun over the side. Another in the back tried to take a potshot from behind his comrades only to find a batarang imbedded in the back of his hand. While that one screamed as he tried to pull the weapon loose, Batman laid into the other two with a brutal series of alternating punches to the jaw and nose. One of them got the bright idea to whip out a baton, but Batman caught it before they could get halfway through their swing and twisted the man's wrist, disarming him.

That baton bashed the bridge of its previous owner's nose, sending him screaming as he clutched the broken appendage. A swing to the temple of the other closest to Batman laid him out cold, and a throw to the gunman in the back sent him stumbling into the far wall. Batman snarled and lunged at him palm-first, the back of his head slammed into the wall hard enough to leave cracks in the concrete. He slumped to the floor moments later.

Batman turned toward the wide-eyed delegation and waved them down the steps. "Hurry!"

By the looks on their faces, they were almost as unnerved by _him_ as they were the near-death experience. Over the years, he'd had to intervene in countless situations like this: disguised, but not as the Bat, and almost invariably, the people he protected managed to identify him anyway. Those that knew of the Batman's existence almost instantly recognized him by his MO, as if their instincts just _knew_ he was the one person in the room not to be trifled with. It certainly helped get them to listen to him, from how quickly they snapped to at his order.

He kept his eyes peeled on the lower floors for any more movement. If Queen Bee had gone through the trouble of paying off U.N. staff and a professional assassin to eliminate her most immediate opposition, he doubted four security guards were the limits of her scheme. And then something occurred to him about the other group proceeding down the other stairwell, and he cast an intense look at Wonder Woman.

"Wonder Woman; lasso the security team!"

Except for his partner, everyone gave him a confused look, but in short order, Diana had shoved the diplomats to one side and cast the Lasso of Truth over the armed guards, roping them all in a single glowing loop. Something subtle changed in their eyes, and a few seconds later, they were looking around in all-too-familiar confusion.

Batman's teeth gritted as he growled, "The whole security team is part of the attempt." He put a finger to his ear. "Bordeaux, watch your back! Psimon's taken control of the U.N. detail!"

"Roger that," she answered, voice carefully level.

With her extensive experience, training with Batman, and cybernetic modifications; it would be nearly impossible for Psimon to jack into Bordeaux's head. Diana retracted the Lasso, tying it up at her hip while frowning at the disoriented guards. The Lasso's mind-altering abilities would've broken Psimon's control for now, but they needed to incapacitate him ASAP. Batman motioned to Wonder Woman, indicating she should take the delegation into the hallway of the next floor down without getting them to the motor pool, where they'd be more exposed. Honestly, U.N. headquarters was probably the safest place for the Quraci diplomats until that sniper and Psimon were neutralized.

They just had to keep them far away from any windows facing the MetLife building.

"Bordeaux," Batman growled into his mic, "I'm heading your way now to back you up. Standby."

He held out a hand to his wife, wordlessly asking for the Lasso and feeling his fingers curl around the golden twine a moment later. Bruce stepped out of the stairwell first, motioning the others to fall in behind him, then splitting off to allow Diana to usher them elsewhere.

He ducked into a janitor's closet, reaching up into the sub-ceiling to pull out a package he'd stashed beforehand. Thirty seconds later, he was sheathed in a compact iteration of the Batsuit made of stitched segments of Kevlar with slim padding around the knuckles, boots, and joints. A bare-bones utility belt was also stashed with it, containing his grapnel, a few explosives, batarangs, and a cluster of miniature smoke and flashbang grenades. The cloak, cowl, boots, and gauntlets were navy blue against the overall gray backdrop, with a large, black bat-symbol across his chest serving as additional armor for his vital organs.

Batman stepped out of the closet once he was fully armored, lenses snapping down over his eyes and sending a sonar pulse throughout the building, revealing Bordeaux's group one floor down. He sprinted back into the stairwell he'd just left and fired his grapnel into the railing above him, using that anchor point to rappel down four floors. Checking the progress of the other group, he rushed into the other stairwell as quietly as possible, pulling a dispenser of explosive gel from his belt. On the stairs above him, he sprayed a circuit on the underside of a weak point, effectively forming a singular shaped charge.

In the time he had left while his targets descended, Batman prepped a flashbang grenade and laid in wait on the steps above where the explosives would drop his quarry. Psimon was inhumanly powerful, to be sure, and could easily overpower him and Sasha if they weren't careful; but one of his few weaknesses was extreme light and sound, which disoriented and kept him from focusing his mental abilities.

Batman activated his commlink to Sasha, whispering, "When I say, shut your eyes and reroute your nanites to protect your ears."

"Roger," she answered, both in his ear and some short distance above. "The gunfire's stopped for now, so we should be able to get you out without incident."

Queen Bee's lilting voice answered her. "I certainly appreciate your diligence, Agent Bordeaux. I do hope your country compensates you handsomely."

Bruce heard the smile in her reply. "The job has its perks."

A breath or two passed, and then he whispered, "Now!" and hit a button on his belt.

A split-second later, the gel detonated, and chaos descended on the stairwell.

Two members of the security team fell along with three of the delegates, including Psimon. Batman's flashbang grenade went off before the dust cleared, the answering screams masking his rapidly approaching steps. The Lasso of Truth went around the torsos of the security personnel, the loop left behind by Batman as he rapidly formed another one and attempted to wrangle Psimon's wrists. He found himself flung backward and grunted as his back hit the stairs hard, distantly hearing the shouts of a struggle one floor up as Bordeaux tangled with the rest of the hijacked security team.

Batman grit his teeth against the pain as Psimon growled his way upright, his feet leaving the ground a moment later as he levitated himself and several sharp chunks of concrete. Eyes widening, Bruce dove over the guardrail as the shrapnel pummeled the rail and the wall, one shard managing to slap his left arm on the way down. Midair, he tilted his head down and aimed his grapnel at the bottom of Psimon's level, reeling himself up and planting another charge on the ground beneath him while he searched for Batman. A few moments passed before the explosives went off, sending a shower of concrete upward and blasting Psimon in the face.

Snarling, the psychic wiped off his bloodied features and flew into the hole, finding only the small trace of where the Batman's cable had been anchored. From above, the abandoned Lasso of Truth snapped around his neck, yanking him upward onto the walkway, where Batman attempted to subdue him. With his titanic force of will, Psimon managed to fight off the mellowing effects of the Lasso and telekinetically sent three bent pieces of rebar to pin Batman to the wall by the neck and wrists. Gasping for breath, Batman struggled against his restraints while the disoriented security team drew their weapons on Psimon.

The Bialyan "delegates" then brandished what appeared to be shock rods, ambushing the pair of guards with electric attacks that rendered them unconscious in moments.

"You planned this from the start," Batman rasped.

Psimon gave him a bloodied smile. "Of course. You of all people should know one never leaves the _important_ things to chance." He levitated a particularly jagged chunk of rebar at his shoulder, grinning all the while. "Before I make any rash decisions, however, I absolutely _must_ know who's hiding behind that mask. It's a question that's plagued many of my colleagues, after all. Bragging rights, you see."

Batman snarled and made a show of struggling against his bonds as he felt an all-too-familiar pull in his head. "You should know," he hissed between his teeth, "my mind's not a very nice place to be."

Psimon kept grinning regardless—that is, until Bruce let him in, just a bit, and he was swarmed with memories of every time he'd been shot, stabbed, or beaten; all at once. Every person who'd died in his arms, every loss he'd suffered (excepting those who could easily expose his identity), every time he'd ever been defeated. The moment Ra's al Ghul tried to kill Damian. The time Bane nearly broke his back and his spirit. But most of all, the day he fell to his knees under the burning Ethiopian sun, holding the lifeless body of Jason Todd in his arms…and swore he would never do it again.

These memories, all that pain and tragedy, was just who the Batman was, something he lived with every single day.

Not so for Psimon, and certainly not all at once.

The onslaught of sheer agony sent a psychic backlash through their mental connection that sent Queen Bee's right hand screaming across the stairwell. As quickly as he ran, the psychic link was cut, and Batman could feel his head clear. Flicking his pinky into a divot on the underside of his gauntlet, he pulled out a miniaturized thermite stick that was quickly used to melt through the rebar holding him down. The other side was pried loose with his arm-blades a moment later, and a few bounding strides were enough to bring him to Psimon, who was quickly restrained and hog-tied with the Lasso.

He'd developed that overloading technique years ago specifically to keep Doctor Destiny from entering his mind, and discovered not long after that it worked to counter just about any attempts to hijack his mind. Chalk one more up to the evidence pile.

When he looked up from his restrained quarry, the two armed members of the Bialyan delegation were nowhere to be found.

A familiar head of black hair poked over the edge of the railing one floor up, nodding to him. "You all right down there?"

Batman nodded stiffly. "Fine. How's your end?"

Sasha frowned and glanced around on her level. "The security team's down, but Queen Bee got away in the chaos."

"So did the two who ambushed the guards down here."

"Get after them?"

Batman frowned. "You should, yes."

She frowned and vaulted over the edge to land on his level, checking the downed guards' vitals. "Where are _you_ going?"

"After the shooter. Someone else moved to intercept him, and I haven't heard back from them yet." He pointed at Psimon's heavily restrained form. "Make sure he doesn't move. He shouldn't be able to use his psychic abilities while under the Lasso's effects, but his will is stronger than most."

"Right," she replied with a nod. Sasha leaned in close and lowered her voice as he retrieved his fallen grapnel. "By the way, sorry I couldn't make the wedding. There were…extenuating circumstances."

Bruce felt a smile tug at his lips. "In our business, there always are. Cassie couldn't come either; last-minute catastrophe with her nephew Lycus."

Her head shook with a rueful smile. "It's always something." She nodded down the stairs. "Now go; I'll take care of these guys, see if I can rally what's left of my team."

The Batman nodded and took off over the edge, his cloak flaring out at the touch of an electric charge in his gloves and slowing his fall considerably. The moment he hit the ground floor, he took off down the hall, storming out into the lobby and hitting a control on his belt. Moments later, the Batmobile screeched around the corner, narrowly dodging the parked cars on its way to him. The clack of a door opening behind him snapped his attention to the source only to see Wonder Woman leading the Quraci diplomats to their motorcade.

They exchanged a brief nod before Batman leapt into his vehicle and kicked the throttle into overdrive, a jet of ignited nitrous exploding out the back as he sped off to find his son.

…

Getting to the top of the MetLife building put the Tomorrow Knight's resilience to vertigo to the test. Grappling up an elevator shaft with an uninhibited line to the top was just the start. Given that the main elevator wasn't linked to the new construction, he had about fifteen more stories to clear before he got to the only floor with the right angle to have made that shot. By the time he reached the makeshift stairwell that traversed the section under construction, he was a little out of breath from all the climbing. Nevertheless, his guard was all the way up.

Lewis had been operating in the U.S. for years without being caught and for damn good reason. His time with the Marines, a veritable fortune's worth of hi-tech gear, and a sociopathic drive to be the best made him exceptionally dangerous. And he now had his hands on ten diamond-tipped .50 cal. rounds that would punch through Jason's armor like tissue paper.

As Jason entered the stairwell, he fired his grapnel at the very top, snagging the barb on the ceiling and reeling himself up as quickly and quietly as possible. His lenses engaged, scanning over multiple spectra until he picked up a single warm body above, next to a long, warm object he could only assume was the rifle. Switching to sonar, he didn't pick up any mines or other immediate threats as he neared the top, but as he retracted the lenses, he kept his eyes peeled regardless. Reaching out, he gingerly grabbed the wooden rail and cut the line as he vaulted onto solid ground.

TK slowly rose to his feet, cautiously approaching his target's location and noting the significant obstructions between them. The whole floor was a tangle of wooden pallets, orange industrial lights, and extension cords. Add to that the half-constructed walls of concrete and plaster, and the place looked like a set piece from _Casino Royale_.

And he was up against a soldier of fortune who turned his back on his country for the thrill of the hunt. Did that make him Bond?

His blue eyes flickered to the side, catching sight of something just inside the doorway leading to the shooter, a faint blinking red light. The color alone set his nerves on edge, but the device attached to the LED wasn't an explosive. No, it was much smaller, more like a—

The Knight's eyes widened.

 _Motion sensor._

His body tensed for a split-second, ready to launch sideways in a dive-roll. But an ear-splitting _crack_ hit before he could so much as twitch, and then there was a hard impact to his head, and he distantly felt himself staggering backward, black spots at the edge of his vision. When they managed to focus enough for him to see straight, his eyes revealed an all-too-familiar ceiling that was quickly replaced by a world gone topsy-turvy as his body tipped and fell straight over the railing.

…

Adrien Lewis, despite what the tabloids said about his gaudy appetites, was a man of refined tastes. Yes, perhaps his properties were a bit over-the-top, his decorations far too pricey to be proper, but these were hardly the things that concerned him. No, all of that was only the trappings of his wealth, a pretty distraction from the true object of his connoisseurship: the perfect kill. He never could pin down when his obsession began. At least, that's what all the overpriced therapists called it. Adrien called it natural selection.

First it was birds who came too close to the yard, then a frog he found while collecting rocks. Little things along the way that garnered the concern of his tutors and guardians and taught him early on that he was different. It wasn't until he joined the Marine Corps that he saw that as an advantage, but even then, after his very first human kill, he realized he didn't fit there either. They said "shoot," and he leapt at the opportunity, but it was all so…routine, so pedestrian. There was no challenge to it, even with hell and dust and fire raining down around him. It was all business.

So when his tour was up, he issued himself a challenge: stage the perfect kill.

Perfect, defined thusly by a true test of his skills, an opposition that would be almost overwhelming, and a target important enough to merit that kind of protection. Throughout his life, his wealth and status had handed him _everything_ , everything he'd ever wanted. He had it all, and through all that he had _nothing_. When no cost was levied, no challenge was issued, it all felt hollow. Tasteless. Meaningless.

So he took the jobs, one after another, meticulously planning and scheming and setting up vast challenges for himself. He might've turned down all the money attached if his parents hadn't drummed a certain sense of decorum into him before they sent him off to live with hired hands. They had an image to maintain, after all, and keeping a sociopathic son around could only stain the family name. Which was why, mere months after adopting his assassin persona, he ran across a contract on two Lewis names and took it before anyone else could.

By and large, his experience of emotions was…stunted, to say the least, but he could allow himself a certain amount of satisfaction at the end of that particular hunt.

Which was what brought him here, to New York City, with a contract on the prime minister of Qurac. He'd gone after lawyers, cops, mayors, even a U.S. Senator; but a bona fide head of state? And one so closely guarded, no less? Suffice to say, Christmas had come right on time.

The long shot had always been his preferred method of execution, but taking a long shot at a building that well-defended, at just the right angle? One of the single greatest challenges of his career. And then there was finding a way to penetrate the ballistic glass of the meeting room, dodging BPD after the test run, getting back into the country without being noticed. Lewis was no fool; mask or no, someone was bound to put the pieces together, and after a high-profile kill like this? He could probably expect a permanent vacation from the U.S. just to dodge the inevitable investigation.

What he hadn't expected was for someone to trip the motion sensor he'd placed at the stairwell at his back as a failsafe just two minutes after he'd taken his first shot. Certainly, he'd expected resistance, but so quickly, from so far away? He'd been very specific about finding out who'd been assigned to security for this summit, and none of them save Wonder Woman had the speed to reach him, and she was on the prime minister. So, when he spun around, pulling the rifle off its tripod, and spotted a blazing heat signature on his thermal scope, he took barely a second to line up a headshot before pulling the trigger.

Thanks to his target being obscured by several solid objects, he didn't see the expected explosion of blood from being shot with such a large, high-powered round at such close range. Nevertheless, he turned back toward the target building, re-mounting his weapon and scoping out his target. So, needless to say, he was a bit shocked when the faint whine and blink of his motion tracker popped up again just moments later. Before he could even spin halfway around, his motion tracker suddenly just stopped working—along with every light and piece of tech on that floor, including his thermal scope.

Gritting his teeth, he reached to his belt while tucking the rifle under his arm, bringing a small flashlight up to hold against the barrel of the gun. Lewis shuffled a few steps to get better cover between him and the stairwell, resting his rifle on a nearby crate as he pulled the thermal scope off and used the weapon's iron sights. This was only a setback, and he had a secondary location near the airport the PM would most likely use. All he needed to do was eliminate this nuisance, and he'd be free to relocate and take his second shot. The slightest twitch of movement from that end of the building, and it was game over. Adrien was the Devil Dog; he wouldn't miss.

So why couldn't he shake the feeling that _he_ was now the one being hunted?

…

Moments earlier, as Jason dangled from one hand set precariously on a rail three floors down, he was having a rather absurd internal conversation.

 _I am_ so _glad I didn't listen to Damian when we designed this helmet. "What do you need Promethium for?" he said. "You're overcompensating," he said._

Reaching up with his other hand to steady himself, he snorted and drew his grapnel.

 _Suck it, Dami. The Red Hood was right, as per usual._

Seconds later, he was riding another line upward at rapid speed, one hand on the grapnel, the other dipping into his belt for a preemptive measure he threw into the room beyond as he vaulted over the rail. A two-count after the device hit the ground, a localized EMP shut down every active piece of tech on that floor and the two below it, sending the room into perfect darkness only broken by the city lights from outside and, moments later, an ominous-looking flashlight. He narrowly dodged the beam as he ducked behind a crate just inside the spacious room, not far from where he spotted the now-useless motion sensor.

It took him a few seconds of his head throbbing to reach up to steady himself only to find that he was no longer wearing his helmet. He cursed under his breath; it must've been hit hard enough to overpower the magnetic seal. Not that it was the first time, given he'd tangled with super-strong opponents like Cheetah and Deathstroke. Still, he was glad for the foresight to have built in a cowl underneath, despite the little protection it offered. If he'd had to rely on his helmet to maintain his secret identity, he'd be up the creek.

The flashlight passed over his position again, allowing him to scoot a few feet closer behind cover. Unfortunately, that quick motion prevented him from seeing the little bit of flotsam on the ground, and his boot scuffed against it just enough to be heard. And without any shock absorbing material, the room was basically a giant echo chamber that amplified the noise. Needless to say, TK flattened himself against the ground a split-second before gunfire erupted, another diamond-tipped slug tearing through his cover and the wall behind before he heard the telltale _click_ of a bolt being drawn back.

A second later, right as Devil Dog was lining his sights back up, Knight popped over his cover with a flashbang grenade at the ready, narrowly avoided when he faced the other way. But that was the point, as it gave Jason the opportunity to close the distance. By the time Lewis faced him again with that awfully tacky red-and-black mask, TK was close enough to grab the rifle's barrel and shunt it away from his body. Devil Dog tried to shove the butt of the gun into his face, but was stopped by one of Jason's gauntlets and the arm-blades he deployed. Using that anchor of contact, he wrenched the gun out of Lewis' hands and tossed it away into the darkness, the flashlight in the assassin's hand dropping with it and leaving only a faint trace of light in the room.

Devil Dog snap-kicked him in the shin, which threw him off-balance more than doing any real damage. Still, it was enough to get him some breathing room, which allowed Lewis to quickly raise a 9mm submachine gun from his hip. Automatic fire spat from the weapon as Jason scrambled for cover, diving over a crate right as he felt the skid of a round over his shoulder plate. Fortunately, these rounds weren't nearly as penetrating as the last set, so the majority of his bullets were spent on suppressing fire. The moment Jason heard the click of an empty chamber, he vaulted over his cover into a flying kick that was just barely ducked.

Nevertheless, it set him up for a follow-up forearm lunge that redirected the barrel of Lewis' empty weapon before he could fit it with a fresh mag. Devil Dog and the Knight struggled over the gun for a good ten seconds before Jason planted two jabs into his face and kneed him in the lower ribs as the building's red emergency lights came on. Lewis swung the weapon like a bludgeon, two swipes that were ducked and weaved around amidst counter-punches that just missed their mark. The assassin jabbed the butt of his gun into Jason's midsection just enough to stop his advance, then lunged away as he snapped another magazine in and slammed one into the chamber.

TK grabbed the barrel right as the first shot rang out, sending bursts of automatic fire scattering along the walls and ceiling as Lewis continuously backed up while trying to realign his sight picture. Jason backhanded and elbowed him repeatedly in attempts to disarm him, but his grip held fast. So, instead, TK went for the mag release, managing to hit it amidst the struggle and drop the remaining twenty-odd rounds to the concrete floor. When he went for the bolt to empty the chamber, Lewis took one hand off the gun to slam him in the nose with a jab. Jason coughed and staggered a bit, a momentary check verifying that his nose wasn't broken, but surged forward with a crescent kick that knocked the approaching barrel away right as Devil Dog pulled the trigger.

The motion sent his last round flying uselessly through one of the windows, leaving him open to a side-kick that knocked him back toward an unfinished doorway. Snarling, Jason fired his grapnel into the ceiling between them and reeled himself up just enough to get a substantial pendulum motion and kick Lewis through the door with both legs. He flew off his feet, back-first into a rolling toolbox. Devil Dog groaned as he barrel-rolled away from Jason's approaching form, reaching to a shoulder holster and whipping out a .40 caliber pistol. TK's eyes widened as he lunged toward Lewis, leaping to the left and using a ring of crates as springboards to wall-run around his opponent at close range.

Shot after shot just missed or grazed Jason over the next two seconds before he lined up a shot with his grapnel and managed to send the barb into the slide of the pistol. As he leapt down from his wall-run, TK rolled for extra momentum and snapped his arm back, yanking the gun from Lewis' grip. He retracted the cable just enough to make it taut, then swung the pistol like a flail, nailing Devil Dog in the arm and gut with consecutive strikes until he charged in shoulder-first and tackled Jason to the ground. The grapnel went flying from his grip, his now-empty hand pounding the side of Lewis' head repeatedly in an attempt to get him off.

Devil Dog grabbed him by the neck and collar, roaring as he lifted Knight and slammed him to the ground back-first with both their weight. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and the telltale _snikt_ of a knife draw followed a second later. TK snapped his hips in a knee that sent Devil Dog's falling stab into the concrete, following with a hard pull that furthered Lewis' momentum and sent him rolling away. They scrambled to their feet in tandem, Lewis making the first move and lunging with a low stab that Jason held back with both hands, leaving himself exposed to a knee to the hilt of the knife that sent it forward. He just managed to redirect the path of the blade so it grazed his side, countering with an elbow to the face.

The long knife was a Ka-Bar, a classic Marine companion, and hella dangerous in the hands of someone like Lewis, so TK's focus immediately shifted to disarming him. They struggled over the blade for a few seconds before Knight decided to disengage and get some distance between them, peppering Devil Dog with fast jabs to preempt any strikes with the knife. Lewis shifted the knife to an underhanded grip and came at him with rapid swings from several directions. The last one, Jason lunged into, grabbing the knife-hand's wrist while deflecting the blade with his bracer and laying into Devil Dog with a head-butt and elbow to the face.

Lewis shin-kicked him in the back of the leg, forcing him to withdraw a step while maintaining his control over the weapon. Devil Dog dropped the knife into his empty hand, swinging for the Knight's gut and just missing thanks to a backward snap of his hips. Jason quickly shifted his grip from Lewis' right hand to his left, spinning to seat his body back-first against Devil Dog's chest to limit his vision and range of motion, then bringing Lewis' left arm down as he snapped his knee upward. The strike impacted the hilt of the knife, sending it flying from his grip into the ceiling, where it stuck. Jason immediately sent his elbow back to try slamming Lewis in the face only to be ducked and his exposed right side used to grab him around the midsection and body-slam him into a nearby wooden pallet.

The pallet caved in with a shower of splinters and wood chips as Jason gasped for breath, feeling one hand around his throat while he was laid into with the other. Devil Dog stopped punching him to put his other hand around TK's neck, trying to throttle the life out of him. Jason elbowed his grasping wrists, seeing black spots rapidly closing in over his vision as his enemy's grip refused to falter. Gasping half in panic, the Knight snarled and grabbed Lewis' thumbs, twisting hard, almost enough to dislocate them but definitely enough to get himself some breathing room. Immediately, he lunged upward in a head-butt that broke Devil Dog's nose, further staining his mask with red.

A follow-up kick to the gut sent Lewis flying off, and while Jason desperately tried to recover his breath, the assassin ran into the other room, where he'd left most of his guns.

Including the one with diamond-tipped rounds.

Gritting his teeth, the Knight leapt to his feet and sprinted after him, brandishing a batarang from his belt and hurling it at the fallen weapon. The impact sent it sliding further from Devil Dog's grip, and when he glanced back to see Jason's rapidly approaching form, he altered his direction to dive for a duffel bag next to his tripod. Another batarang entered TK's hand as he tried to reach Lewis before he pulled out whatever he was going for. He failed, and as he saw the barrel of the sawed-off pump-action shotgun, he leapt away back-first while throwing his batarang.

The gun went off a split-second before the weapon left his hand, a scattering of buckshot slamming him across the chest as his armor took the full impact, sending TK tumbling over a table and flat onto his back. For the umpteenth time, he'd had the wind knocked out of him, and his batarang had gone wide as a result.

Just like he planned.

The Knight reached down to his left gauntlet, activating a touchscreen in its underside as he heard the approaching cock of the shotgun. On the screen was a feed of the dark room, courtesy of the batarang he'd just thrown and the gyroscopic camera inside. His finger twisted in an arc that the remote-controlled weapon immediately followed, a malevolent smile coming to his lips as Devil Dog stepped around the table to level his weapon at Jason's head. An instant later, a faint metallic _chink_ broke the silence of the room, and Lewis looked at the barrel of his weapon to see a batarang imbedded in the firing chamber.

A faint, intensifying whine filled the air as its integrated explosive charge primed, and he had just enough time to hurl the gun away before it exploded in his face.

The resultant light and shrapnel blinded him as he shielded his face with his arms, giving the Knight plenty of time to nip-up to his feet, fighting the pain in his chest. He rose to his full height, growling furiously as he advanced, opening with a thrust-kick to the gut followed swiftly by a hook to the head. Jason laid down every remaining scrap of strength he had, driving Lewis back by the step until he was backed against his tripod. Devil Dog reached back to grab the device, attempting to swing it like a bludgeon, but Jason's rapidly expanding sword cleaved through it like butter before he cut through Lewis' right hamstring on the back-swing.

As he screamed to his knees, the Tomorrow Knight stood over him, shoulders wide, his otherwise lean form casting an imposing shadow over his enemy. He reached out with his empty hand, yanking Devil Dog's mask off to reveal the unsurprising, bloodied features of Adrien Lewis—and the look of pain and abject terror on his face. Hidden by shadow, a faint, malevolent smirk rose to Jason's lips as he raised his sword threateningly, as if to run Lewis through despite his single pleading hand. At the last second, TK twirled the sword in his fingers, flipping it to an underhanded grip before bringing it down with a roar and slamming the pommel between Lewis' eyes.

The assassin fell back instantly, eyes rolled back into his head as his arms sprawled out to his sides. Jason took a few deep, heavy breaths before retracting and holstering his sword. He reached down and rolled Lewis onto his front, pulling his arms behind his back to cuff him up. Amid giving the assassin a pat-down for any more weapons, he heard a faint rustle behind him and snapped upright, brandishing a batarang mid-motion. When he saw the silhouette of the newcomer, he stopped short, and when the faint red lighting illuminated the bat-symbol on his chest, he relaxed and lowered the weapon.

The Knight nodded toward the unconscious Lewis, a bloodied smirk on his lips. "Case closed."

…

In the aftermath of the two-prong attempted assassination, a veritable political hurricane had descended on New York City. On the airfield of their private landing strip, the Quraci prime minister delivered a rousing—and threatening—speech promising swift reprisal for Bialyan barbarism. Diana and Bruce had been less than happy about that, since it was practically a declaration of war that could overturn an already-delicate peace for the entire region. But given the circumstances, they could hardly call it unjustified.

Psimon was remanded to the custody of ARGUS, who immediately fitted him with a psionic suppressor and shipped him off to Belle Reve Penitentiary. Queen Bee and most of her delegation were nowhere to be found. Given Diana's need to stay with the Quraci diplomats and Bruce's mad scramble to get to Jason, the despot had more than enough time to make her escape and was now no doubt halfway to Bialya. Not an uncommon occurrence, given how crafty she was, but it still left a bad taste in their mouths.

Regardless, no one had been killed, the damage was manageable, and an extremely dangerous metahuman was now in custody. As the Waynes flew back to Gotham, Bruce glanced over his shoulder to see Jason typing something out on his tablet. His armor was scored and dented, his face bruised and bloody, but a profound air of satisfaction surrounded him, written all over that beat-up face.

Bruce turned back forward, the cabin of the Batwing seating him and Diana side-by-side as she held the controls. He reached over and held her hand, the pair exchanging a smile.

"Gotcha."

Jason's voice, tinged with small bits of predatory glee, caught their attention.

"What?" Diana asked.

He scooted up to push his tablet into their view. "I pocketed Lewis' phone before the cops took him in, tried to crack the encryption with Steph's help." He pulled out his earbuds and activated his phone's speaker mode. "Yo Steph—tell 'em what you found."

"Okay," she said, "so when we were investigating Lewis a few weeks back, we found a drive in one of his apartments that was encrypted with a two-key system—a physical component we couldn't mimic. Well, Lewis built that key into his phone case, so Jason took a scan of it, which I was able to convert into a 3D-printed model over here. And, well…see for yourselves."

Jason's tablet was pervaded by an onslaught of data and records, but several in particular were highlighted. Even before he could explain, Bruce's eyes widened.

"Lewis' contract on the prime minister was mediated by the Decembrists," said Bruce.

Diana tensed at his side.

"There's more," Jason added. "Bank transfers, contact info for Rhodes, the spoofed flightplans that got him back into the country…don't you see? The Decembrists aren't just some…shell company for a larger syndicate; they're the ultimate third party for every criminal enterprise imaginable. Brokers, banks, assassination contracts—they are the controlling market share of middlemen in the criminal underworld on a _global_ scale." He grinned malevolently. "And thanks to Lewis' compulsive record-keeping, we now have a location to start looking."

Diana glanced at the screen, where shipping records of his rifle parts were displayed. "Singapore? Makes a certain kind of sense; it's remote, private, with swathes of undeveloped real estate. Easy enough for someone to buy that up for the purposes of a hideout."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Then we draw up plans to get there within the week. Cassandra can help; she knows that region like the back of her hand."

"She was gonna be my first call," Jason agreed.

His father nodded. "Then we sort out the details and head out after Christmas." He smiled. "For now, let's sit back and enjoy Alfred's specialty, shall we?"

Not a single person in the vehicle dissented that.

* * *

AN: All right! Hope you all enjoyed this little adventure. I was looking back on some of the previous chapters, and while I think I've given plenty of exemplary moments to a lot of the supporting characters, I realized that I hadn't yet written a segment for Batman being Batman. I did not anticipate…well, that's a lie, I've tried to write Batman before and I know just how difficult it is to properly portray his character.

His distinct brand of brooding and sass is great, but what's always struck me about him the most is how methodical he is in everything he does. Whether he's working through a difficult case or in the middle of a pitched fight, nothing is ever anything less than calculated. I really tried to capture that aspect of him in this one, shifting gears from devoted father to Dark Knight.

Plus this whole Bialya situation sets up something…spectacular for the opening of Act II later. Speaking of which, Act I is rapidly drawing to a close, I think within the next two chapters. Think of it as a season finale, which will…answer a few questions and leave you with a bunch more. As every good season finale should.

Anyway, I'll let you pick this chapter apart at your will; I'd really like some input on the Batman segment, if you don't mind. Otherwise, you can look out for more soon, I hope. School is being a pain, so I'm not sure when I'll be able to output like this again, but we'll see.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice – Fight Night: start-1:05—stairwell ambush/getting changed, 1:05-1:27—explosive gel/set-up, 1:27-3:24—Batman vs. Psimon, 3:24-end—exiting the building/Batmobile/diamond-tipped headshot

Batman: Arkham Origins – Assassins: The Tomorrow Knight vs. Devil Dog/KO


	14. The Decembrists, Part I

Christmas in the Wayne household had always been different since Diana moved in, given that it didn't have nearly as much significance for her. The sentiments were appreciated; the gaudy, excessive preparations were not, especially to the degree that was expected of a family as wealthy as the Waynes. Soooo…after Bruce and Diana started dating, they basically booted all the usual guests from their invite list, closed off the unused sections of the manor, and spent the day in an intimate family gathering. The one time (mostly) everyone was under one roof.

Cass couldn't come due to prior engagements, plus her preparation for their impending Singapore incursion. Caden had already turned them down, and was busy in Star City otherwise, though he sent his fondest regards. And Jay…well, they wouldn't even have known how to invite him. The rest, however, were there in full: Tim and Stephanie, Dick and Kory, Lucius Fox, Barbara, Sasha, and even Selina came. That the house was filled partway with Bruce's previous lovers didn't seem to bother Diana a bit, though at least some of that might've been thanks to A: the ring on her finger, and B: the fact that her hand had hardly left his all night.

And whenever possible and/or remotely sensible, she seated herself directly in his lap.

She wasn't petty. Really.

Maybe a little.

To be perfectly honest, Diana's last meeting with Talia had somewhat stigmatized her against Bruce's old relationships, though certainly none of them had failed and damaged him as much as that witch. The single most problematic of them all—at least of the ones that Bruce was still talking to—was Selina Kyle. Given her criminal history and fickle nature, Diana didn't expect to get along with her in the slightest when Alfred invited her to the manor off the cuff and half-dragged Bruce away for them to talk alone. When they had returned ten minutes later, the pair was halfway through their second bottle of wine and laughing their asses off.

Being a woman in a man's world was something they could both identify with, not to mention their care for children and orphans. And, of course, endangered species. From time to time, Diana contracted Selina under the table to ensure certain…unscrupulous parties were kept in check with regard to Wayne Enterprises' business dealings. Either that or using their ill-gotten gains to replenish the charity fund. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but got on well enough when their lives overlapped. At present, Selina was tossing around stories with Kory and Sasha about some of their most embarrassing moments on the job.

It took Diana all of half a minute to spot Jason's slightly sulky form out by one of the balconies. Sulky because his smile mid-conversation with Stephanie and Tim didn't reach his eyes and his shoulders were lower than usual. Diana pursed her lips and laid her manicured hand on Bruce's leg briefly, catching his attention and nodding slightly in the kid's direction. He blinked and nodded; he'd noticed it too. Strange, given that last night was the first time he'd singlehandedly taken down a major player. Not without injury, considering the cuts and bruises (and a massive splotch of red on his forehead), but still a very big win.

Giving Bruce a frown, she stood up, leaving him talking to Dick and Barb about something or other. Halfway to Jason, Tim caught her eye and gave her a small shake of the head. Confused, she stared at him for a second for two before she caught him mouthing something.

" _We're getting to the bottom of it._ " He followed that with a quick wink.

She smiled and nodded before returning to Bruce.

Halfway there, her hearing picked up, "I was thinking sometime in August, so we don't have to deal with the cold you did. Or God forbid, the drama of storm season."

Dick was saying it in a very familiar tone that quickly drew her attention as she sat back down, frowning slightly. She slowly diverted her attention to Kory's orange form and the flaming red hair she was smoothing out between her fingers. And _then_ she noticed the giant _rock_ on her left hand and the conversation finally clicked into place.

"Wait," Diana interrupted, "when did _this_ happen?" She waved animatedly between Dick and Kory.

Dick grinned teasingly, showing a bit of teeth. "You're just _now_ catching up on the convo? Where has your mind been for the past ten minutes?"

Diana frowned and shrugged, feeling color fill her face. "Remembering someone we forgot to invite."

Bruce shot her a glance, and she nodded at Jason. Realization flickered in his eyes, and he frowned slightly. "Do we know why she's not here?"

"Tim and Stephanie are finding out."

Barbara turned toward the youngest Wayne and pursed her lips. "They haven't exactly had a lot of time together, you know. And right before their 'date,' he actually called me for advice, all worried about it." She frowned crookedly. "We were in the middle of an op at the time, but now I'm really regretting hanging up on him."

Bruce gave the ginger an inquisitive look. "Advice? What about?"

Her lips pursed. "I…don't really remember the specifics. I was a little distracted at the time."

All three of the others present gave her a deadpan look.

Dick spoke up first. "Babs, you have perfect recall."

"Well, yeah, but…" she sighed hard, "look, he was worried about whether he should even pursue a relationship with her."

"Because he's from the future," Diana said.

She nodded slowly. "It was never about if he liked her or she him…but I can't help feeling that he's worried about hurting her. After all, it wouldn't be the first time she's had a boyfriend from the future."

Diana sighed. "And not being able to spend time with her tonight probably isn't helping."

Dick smiled a little. "Well, if I know Tim and Steph, they'll be fixing that right quick."

…

After nearly half an hour's worth of small talk, Stephanie finally asked what had been on their minds since they first saw his sullen expression.

"So where's Kara?"

Jason's face fell further, a crooked frown twitching his lips. "She uh…had to work tonight."

Tim's eyebrows shot skyward. "Seriously? It's _Christmas_!"

He shrugged. "And she needs a decent work portfolio for a little extra juice to get into Parsons. I'm not gonna stand in the way of her career for a dumb party."

Steph exchanged a look with Tim, a conspiratorial look in their eyes, before she turned back to Jason and grinned. "Jason, you're talking to Kay's best friend right now. Trust me, nothing would make her happier than to ditch whatever she's doing and hang out with you."

He frowned and crossed his arms. "Then why did she say no?"

Her eyes rolled as she followed Tim inside. "Because she made a commitment before you asked and is as much of a goodie-two-shoes as her cousin."

"So…how are we supposed to get around that?"

"Simple." Tim grinned as he surreptitiously opened the study's door to the Batcave. "We're gonna kidnap Supergirl."

…

Clara had chewed halfway through her pencil by the time the first hour was up. Her job, as the left-behind intern at the Planet, was to sort through a stack of invoices based on reporter, source, and story they were assigned to. Which wouldn't have been a problem if she could use her powers, but after an incident of plagiarism three years ago involving an invisible man striding into the bullpen and reporting for a rival paper, there had been high-speed multispectral cameras installed courtesy of the new owner, Bruce Wayne. Which left her doing things the old-fashioned way.

And bored. Very, very bored.

She could _swear_ Clark was doing this to her on purpose. And Jason had just called her that morning inviting her to Wayne Manor for Christmas—an event not even _Clark_ got to attend. And he was the closest thing Bruce had to a best friend. No, not the closest; they _were_ best friends. Bruce was just too much of a tough guy to admit it aloud. To be fair, Clark had booked her for Christmas a week earlier since he and Lois were having Jon babysat elsewhere so they could have some alone time on the farm and not have to worry about work. Still, she spared every extra second not working silently griping about her loneliness on the job.

That is, until she was suddenly surrounded by a cluster of bluish-white energy and momentarily blinded.

When the whiteness finally faded from her vision, she blinked rapidly to find herself standing in a dimly lit space with fluorescent lights scattered about and the ever-present dripping of water in the backdrop. Her super-hearing picked up the faint sounds of music coming from above, and when she looked up, her eyes widened to see the crags and stalactites of the Batcave. Slowly turning her eyes down, Clara met three faces staring at her with similar expressions, one sheepish, the other two grinning madly.

The sheepish boy stepped up to the transporter pad and held out his hand expectantly, a gentle smile on his lips.

"We uh, figured you might be bored out of your skull, so…" Jason jerked a thumb behind him, "Tim hacked the Watchtower teleporters and routed a Zeta line here."

Kara blinked slowly and glanced between them, gradually returning her gaze to Jason, who looked like he was nervously fighting the urge to shift around. "So…this is a kidnapping?"

"Yup," "Uh huh," "Definitely," came three voices in quick succession.

Kara bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep from hysterically giggling. She failed when she threw her arms around Jason and buried her face in his neck. He tensed up for just a second before laughing and curling his arms around her, his palms pressing firmly into her back. She drew back just far enough to peck his neck, making him blush and chuckle softly.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Jason smiled wider, eyes sparkling. "You're very welcome." He shrugged and jerked his head behind him. "Besides, it was their idea."

"Yeah, but you missed me," Kara drawled teasingly, her arms around his neck, keeping their faces close. "Your dad's gonna be so pissed when he finds out about the teleporters."

Tim grinned. "Eh, if he didn't want 'em hacked, he shouldn't have skimped on the security."

Jason cleared his throat softly, nodding at the elevator. "Shall we?"

Kara eyed him up and down, the immaculate suit he was sporting, sans tie, with both buttons undone; and frowned. She glanced down at her plain pink blouse and the floral pencil skirt she wore to work. "I feel a little…underdressed."

He drew closer and gripped her by the chin, tipping her head upward to meet his gaze. "You're _adorable_."

She gulped visibly at the look in his eyes and the warm, husky tone of his voice. Behind him, Stephanie was fanning herself dramatically while miming fainting. Kara restrained the urge to glare at her, instead biting her lower lip and leaning into Jason while linking her arm with his.

"Thanks," she muttered quietly. "You really make that suit look good."

Jason grinned wider, and she could almost see his head swelling as he ushered her to the elevator. The whole ride up, she and Steph exchanged mild slaps when they thought the boys weren't looking. Until they reached the top and found four pairs of eyes locked on them. Kory was the first to respond, lunging forward and exuberantly wrapping Kara in a bear hug that would've hurt if she wasn't Kryptonian.

"Aww, you two are so _cute_!" she half-shrieked, reaching out to squish Jason against her and his girlfriend.

"Guh—Star—Kory—can't breathe!" Jason gasped.

The Tamaranean chuckled and released them, slinging her arms over their shoulders and pulling them into the study. Kara exchanged a look with Jason, who was red-faced and grinning mid-cough. Kara glanced at the arm around her shoulders and spotted the platinum-diamond ring on her hand, eyes going wide.

"Whoa—when did this happen?!" she shrieked excitedly.

Kory grinned and held her hand up so Kara could see it better. "Last week. He took me out to a lake near where we first met out west and proposed right at sunset, when the tide was rolling in." She chuckled. "It cost him an arm and a leg to get the sand out of his suit-pants."

"I bet," Kara laughed, glancing over at Jason.

The thing that struck her the most about his smiling face was his eyes. Specifically, there was nothing in them that even _suggested_ he was surprised. And yet again, she had to remind herself that he'd grown up in a world where they were already married. Which brought up another point she'd been debating internally: just how much did he already know about her? Their first date had probably been the most nervous she'd ever seen him, the most uncertain where she was concerned. Well, except for the wedding, but that was a different story.

But the incident in Metropolis, with the milkshake?

She hadn't picked up on it at the time, but looking back now, she could see every hidden smile, every coy inside joke he made at her expense. He'd engineered the whole encounter to…well, to mentally and emotionally throw her off-balance, she guessed. And in the process of that, he cast himself in a new light that made him seem a bit more relatable and got her to open up. When she first realized that, Kara didn't know whether to feel flattered or manipulated that he went to such great lengths to get her to like him.

And then she realized that, prior knowledge or no, he didn't need to try very hard.

Despite his roughness, seemingly inherent to being a Bat, there was something deep and engaging and wholesome about his personality. The same could be said for Bruce, even four years ago when he was still a paranoid mess. Which, she supposed, was why someone like Diana had fallen in love with him. Jason was just…easy to like. So what if he knew her favorite milkshake flavor, or exploited her pride to win a bet and spend more time with her? She'd discussed all this with Lois and Kal and concluded all that effort meant that he was invested in their relationship.

Their text and phone conversations often lasted hours on end, or through scattered conversations throughout the day. If he ran across a picture or story he found funny, he shared it. If she was feeling down, he'd take time out of his day to let her vent. If she was craving donuts or cookies, she'd get a knock on her door and a delivery guy bought and paid for from another city. And if he could still fly, she had no doubts he'd be visiting her at work every other day. Kidnapping her from the Daily Planet so she wouldn't have to spend Christmas alone was just another example in a long line of sweet things.

So, with a giddy feeling blossoming in her chest and a high-pitched giggle, she slipped out of Kory's grip and laid a smacking kiss on the side of his face while he was distracted. His face lit up like the lights on the tree in the manor's atrium, and he cast her a mildly startled look while Kory giggled and Damian laughed his ass off.

Jason arched an eyebrow. "What was that for?"

Kara shook her head, grinning. "Just being you."

If possible, he flushed even deeper at that, trying vainly to hide a smile as she interlaced her fingers with his.

"So," Jason said, seeming desperate to get attention off him, "have you guys set a date?" He waved between Dick and Kory.

"Not yet," she bubbled, eyeing the ring. "We're thinking sometime in the late summer or early fall, like your parents."

"Fall weddings are cool," he said in a strange, contemplative tone. "Summer weddings are better."

Kara could see that same knowing smile on his face as when he'd picked her favorite shake.

Kory pursed her lips. "Well, I suppose it all depends on when we can find a venue that's available."

Jason chuckled. "With this family's resources, I'm pretty sure you could buy out anywhere you want."

She frowned. "Well, Dick wanted to make a point of paying for things himself. Of course, _my_ job pays better than his, and since this is something we'll be doing together…"

He shrugged. "Fair enough. Just don't let pride get in the way of your perfect day."

Kory just hummed and peeled off to plant her chin on Dick's shoulder from behind. Jason and Kara turned away from the chuckling couple to make their way to one of the manor's many balconies, staring out at the heavy snowfall.

Kara snorted and held her hand up to catch the flakes. "Talk about a white Christmas."

"Hm. Yeah. Surprising, given how mild the weather's been lately. Well, for December, that is."

Kara absently rubbed her thumb on the back of his hand. "You know, it occurred to me recently that…I don't know as much about you as I'd like."

Jason blinked and met her eyes. "What do you mean? We talk all the time."

She shrugged. "Yeah, like, about our day and funny stuff that happens, but…not the really deep bits."

He frowned. "Well…what would you like to know?"

Her lips pursed tightly. "I don't know. I just feel like you seem a little…closed."

Jason snorted and grinned. "Well, I can't help how you _feel_ , Kay. You decide that. But maybe the only reason you think I'm closed is because you haven't asked."

"Fair enough."

Kara fell silent for a while, taking in the snow-covered forest surrounding Wayne Manor. As the silence dragged on, she couldn't help feeling the awkward tension between them and cleared her throat.

"Do you know how to play two truths and a lie?" She smirked. "Or is that not a thing in the future?"

Jason arched an eyebrow. "I'm familiar with the concept. But uh…" he rubbed his arm absently, a slight tremble to his grip, "we might want to have this conversation out of the cold."

Kara blinked. " _Oh_ , yeah, sure."

He coughed once as they went from the cold to the heat of the house, a faint din of conversation in their backdrop as they entered the atrium.

Kara's lips pursed as something occurred to her. "Actually—you want to get out of here?"

Jason's blushing, wide-eyed expression stopped her in her tracks.

She coughed sharply. "Okay, _so_ not what I meant. I just mean…this could get really private really fast."

"There's no one but family here. Trust me, the secrets in this household? Pretty sure you'd be the last person being judged." Jason frowned crookedly. "But if you feel that strongly about it…"

"Plus, there's…somewhere I'd like to take you."

"Oh?" He smiled. "Do tell."

Her head shook with a grin. "It's a surprise."

His eyes rolled. "Fine, fine. Just let me tell Mom and Dad. They're super paranoid when it comes to my whereabouts."

She snorted. "After Richard Dragon and the kidnapping, can you really blame them?"

"Eh, touché." Fifteen seconds later, he was gently interrupting an exchange between Bruce and Selina. "Oi, Dad, Kara and I are heading out for a bit."

"And we're coming with!"

The couple turned to see Steph half-dragging Tim toward them.

"Wha—seriously?" Kara sputtered.

"Yeah!" Stephanie grinned. "Double date!"

Jason exchanged a look with Kara and shrugged. "Your call."

Her lips pursed and eyes rolled. "Fine, but if you two are tagging along, we'll have to use the teleporters again."

From the side, Bruce cast them a sharp look. " _Again_?"

Jason gave him his best winning smile as they beat a hasty retreat to the cave. "See ya later guys, 'kaythanksbye!"

…

A minute later, they were surrounded by Zeta energy and sent somewhere that took Jason a second or two to recognize.

" _Oh_. This is…"

Kara's lips pursed as she nervously shifted from side to side. "So…what do you think? Decent place for a second date?"

Surrounded by the vast grandeur and glittering crystalline formations of the Fortress of Solitude, it was all Jason could do to form an answer. "Yeah, _definitely_." He grinned and tightened his grip on her hand. "Talk about pulling out the stops."

"Whoa, I can't remember the last time I was here," Stephanie mused.

"After you faked your death," Kara supplied with a frown.

That frown was instantly shared by Tim, who hadn't been privy to that particular secret when it happened a few years ago.

"Oh," Steph said, paling, "that's right. We…emptied Superman's stock of alien liquor."

Tim's eyebrows shot skyward. "You did what now?"

The girls groaned in tandem.

"It was not my proudest moment, okay?" Steph moaned.

"How did you even know it was _compatible_ with human biology?" Tim asked.

"I checked," Kara said. "And had the bots triple-check. Wasn't about to let her fake her death only to make it real."

"Also you were as wasted as she was," Jason chimed in.

Stephanie sent him a narrow-eyed look. "And how would _you_ know?"

He shrugged and remained silent.

It clicked for her a second later. "Right. Future knowledge."

"Yup. Fortunately, that remains your single most embarrassing drunk story. For both of you."

Stephanie coughed and looked away, face turning red.

Jason's eyes widened. "Wait—there's a worse one I don't know about?" He grinned and sidled up to her. "This I _gotta_ hear."

"Nope. Never happening."

Kara poked her in the ribs. "Apparently even I don't know about this, and that's unacceptable. Dish."

Stephanie looked at Tim for help, but apparently he was as curious as the rest of them. Her eyes rolled. "Has anyone else _not_ eaten yet? Because I'm starving."

"Uh huh," Kara drawled. "Like _that's_ not an obvious change of subject."

Steph casually flipped her off as she walked away, to Kara's laughter. They followed her through the Fortress, Kara absently remarking on the various displays and pieces of tech they passed as Jason took it all in. There was one that sat behind several crystalline gates and forcefields, in a chamber dedicated to its use. He recognized it immediately and came to an abrupt stop just outside, eyes fixed on it.

Kara glanced around him to see what he was looking at so intently. "Ah. The Phantom Zone projector. Yeah, Kal keeps that thing under lock and key. He doesn't want to find out what could happen if one of us was sent through accidentally."

Jason's lips pursed tightly as he stared at the machine, his tone dark and brooding. "I doubt that's what he's so worried about."

The longer he looked, the more he could swear hearing a faint peal of insane laughter coming from the device.

That was, until Kara tugged on his arm, nearly pulling him off his feet, and he allowed himself to be led to the Fortress' kitchen. Or, whatever the Kryptonian equivalent was. Kal-El kept the place stocked with human provisions in case he brought Lois there. In fact, he'd specifically coded the Fortress defenses to recognize her and prioritize her and Jon's safety above all else whenever they were present. Overall, one hell of an exotic location for a date. And definitely among the most secure in the world.

Stephanie dug through the Kryptonian cryo-preserver for something edible while Tim filled Kara in on an expansion they were making to Dragoneye. All the while Jason kept turning the Phantom Zone around in his head over and over. There was a certain…permanence to it given the one-way nature of the portal. Well, mostly one-way, unless someone on this side cracked it open. He blinked rapidly as something clicked into place.

 _Oh…why didn't I think about that before?_

Jason grinned toothily, catching Tim's attention mid-conversation with Kara.

"What's that smile for?" he asked Jason.

His head shook slowly, unable to wipe the grin off his face. "Just thought of something that might solve all my problems. Or, well, my _main_ problem."

Kara frowned at him crookedly. "Meaning what?"

He waved dismissively. "Doesn't matter. That's a problem for tomorrow."

Kara squeaked a bit as Jason wrapped her in his arms and lifted her off the ground, swinging her around. Stephanie busted out laughing and Tim shook his head with a grin. Kara just kept staring at him curiously, all the while blushing at his exuberant mood and closeness. Even when she turned to get food, he kept his arms wrapped around her midsection from behind, his chin planted in the crook of her shoulder.

"Graduation is in a month or so for me," Kara said. "I should have heard back from my schools by then. Then it's another week or two before I'll be moving. Probably."

"That's right; you're headed to New York," Tim said.

She nodded. "Mhm. I'll be moving in early, then Steph joins me later." She stretched out languidly, unintentionally pressing herself into Jason a little more. "Gotta say, I'm really looking forward to having the place to myself for a while. And apparently, it's got one hell of a view."

"In Manhattan?" Tim asked. "That must've cost an arm and a leg."

"Oh yeah," she confirmed, "but part of my internship at the Planet comes with a healthy housing scholarship that'll be paying for most of it." Kara grinned and looked over her shoulder to meet Jason's eyes. "Your dad's doing, I've heard."

Jason smirked. "Wayne money flows through most of the East Coast. Not sure why people are still surprised."

She giggled and pressed into his arms, one hand draped over his forearm while the other shoveled food into her mouth at a positively inhuman rate. Jason closed his eyes and smiled as he gently inhaled her hair, trying not to be obvious about it. It was every bit as soft as he remembered. And it smelled like…cinnamon? Nope, lilies. Cinnamon wouldn't be for another decade or so. He instinctively drew his arms a little tighter around her, sighing contentedly.

That apparently drew her attention.

"Comfy?"

"Mhm," he hummed, pressing his cheek into her shoulder like a pillow.

Kara chuckled. "Wanna sit?"

"No," Jason grumbled.

"Okay," she giggled.

He didn't want to move. At all. It had been _years_ since he'd gotten to cuddle her like this. Well, there was a different context back then, but still. There was always something…calming about her warmth and closeness. A part of him mused that that warmth was thanks to her solar-powered nature. Another part insisted it was more personality than anything.

"So, are we gonna play or what?"

Jason blinked his eyes open. "Hm? Play what?"

Kara smiled back at him. "Two truths and a lie."

His lips pursed. "Only if I get to keep hugging you."

She laughed and gently bonked her head into his shoulder. "Sure, cuddlebug. But you have to go first."

"Okay…" Jason looked up in thought for a bit. "When I was six, I was kidnapped and held for ransom that went sideways, I've never been to a foreign country, aaaaand…I once punched Barry Allen in the unmentionables."

"Question," Steph said, raising her hand, "are we all playing or just her?"

He shrugged. "Whoever guesses right first, I guess."

"Three of us, three guesses," Tim said. "One of us is bound to get it right."

"Exactly."

"Okay…you punched Barry in the nuts. No way that happened."

Jason laughed. "Wrong."

Kara side-eyed him hard.

" _What_? I was like three, and he came up to me all smiley and fast-like. I was startled." He snickered. "And Damian had already taught me the most effective method of dealing with unwanted male attention."

Kara giggled and shook her head.

"Okay then…" Stephanie chewed her lower lip. "You've never been to a foreign country. That's a lie."

Jason smirked. "Wrong. Themyscira doesn't count—my family owns it."

"So you weren't kidnapped at six?" Kara asked.

"Nope. I was eight."

"Ugh, that's so specific though."

Jason grinned teasingly. "Still a lie though. Your turn."

Kara frowned. "All right…I spent my twelfth birthday changing Kal's diapers, I've never been dosed with Red Kryptonite, and I've had three boyfriends since coming to Earth."

"Three boyfriends," Jason answered immediately. "You haven't had more than two since waking up." He smirked. "Excluding me, of course."

Kara frowned. "Including you, actually."

He blinked. "Oh."

She frowned deeper. "But then, you already knew that, didn't you?"

Jason stayed silent.

Kara rolled her eyes, more annoyed than upset. "Why did I even suggest this game? I practically rigged it in your favor."

"Why would you say that?"

She gave him the _hardest_ side-eyes. "Really?"

He shrugged. "What? I may be from the future, but I only _act_ like I know everything."

Kara bonked her head into his shoulder a little harder when he started laughing.

"My turn again," he chuckled, falling into thought. "When I still had powers, I could run as fast as Mom, I once stole the Lasso of Truth to win a bet, and…" a wry smile twitched at his lips, "Kara spent _my_ second birthday changing _my_ diapers."

"You were never as fast as Diana," said Kara. "You've admitted multiple times that you haven't discovered your limits yet, and I've seen you fight. You're nowhere near her speed."

Jason smiled ruefully. "Correct. I _could_ be around that speed, but I've never tested it." His smile faded. "And I might never get the chance to."

At the awkward silence that fell over the group, Jason forced himself to keep talking.

"And that's okay. Or at least, I'm growing to be okay with it." He laughed. "I mean, last night I kicked the crap out of one of the FBI's most wanted! No powers, no backup, just _me_ and my wits." Jason's smile spread wider and wider. "And it felt _awesome_." He took one hand off Kara to wave at Steph and Tim. "Is this how you guys feel all the time?"

The pair exchanged a look before Steph shrugged. "Not _all_ the time, but even the small victories feel _great_."

Jason shook his head slowly, planting his head on Kara's shoulder again. "Being human is hard."

Tim laughed. "It's been like three months. You're just now realizing this?"

"Nope. Just took me this long to remark on it without sounding like I'm bitching."

He chuckled.

"So how's the portfolio coming along for Parson's?" Steph asked.

Kara frowned crookedly. "Okay I guess. I took your advice and threw in the Waynes as a reference."

Jason arched an eyebrow. "You did what now?"

"Stephanie gave me an idea to pad my portfolio with my work on Diana's wedding dress. I'm hoping it'll give me a bit more of an edge."

He snorted. "Like your talent isn't already obvious."

Kara side-eyed him. "Jace, this is _Parson's_. Everyone who gets in the front door has talent. That's kind of in the job description. You of all people should know the power of a name, especially with bigwigs like that."

Jason grinned. "Unless you plan on shouting ' _Shazam_ ' during an admissions interview, I don't think you have to worry about that."

Kara rolled her eyes and palmed his face. "Stop being such a brat."

"But I thought you _liked_ my playful side."

"If you weren't so cute, I'd call you dense."

"Ooooh, cute, huh?"

"Aaaand now I can see your head swelling."

"Now why would you say that?" He smirked. "Just because a tiny, adorable little cinnamon roll thinks I'm cute?"

"Cinnamon roll?" Steph asked confusedly.

" _Tiny_?" Kara yelped indignantly.

Jason patted her head, which sat a good six inches below his own. "Mhm, but you know what they say: good things come in small packages." He grinned toothily. "And soft, tiny, squishy packages are the best."

"Squishy?" she hissed.

"Mhm." Jason tightened his grip around her, burying his face in her hair. "Fun to cuddle with."

"…I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult."

"Just cuddle me," he grumbled.

Kara sighed and chuckled softly, pressing her hands into his back as she nuzzled his chest. "Okay, cuddlebug."

"Oh boy; do we need to skedaddle?" Stephanie asked, jabbing a thumb toward a nearby hallway. "Give you two some alone time?"

"No," "Yes," they answered in tandem, Jason in the affirmative.

The pair exchanged a look, Jason grinning, Kara frowning.

At which point Tim grabbed Stephanie's hand and they strolled off toward the Fortress's alien wildlife exhibit.

"Wha—seriously?!" Kara shouted. "You're taking _his_ side?"

"He's family!" Tim called back, laughing.

"And I'm not?"

Stephanie winked at her with a grin and mouthed something Jason couldn't see at that distance—or maybe whispered it. Either way, Kara turned beet-red a second later.

"What'd she say?" he asked mid-chuckle.

"None of your business," she muttered, muffling her voice in his chest.

"I could always tickle it out of you."

"Ha. Joke's on you. I'm not ticklish."

Jason grinned.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "Don't you dare—"

"It's your turn again."

She blinked. "What?"

"Two truths, one lie. Gimme."

"We're still—okay." Kara sighed and thought for a second, her expression more serious than before. "Jon feels more like a little brother than a nephew. Brainiac's actions once left a scar on me. I've always envied Kal and Lois' relationship."

Jason's face became stony. "The bit about Brainiac."

She blinked. "What? No. I've always _admired_ Kal and Lois, aspired to find someone who works with me they way they do." Kara frowned. "Why would you think…"

His lips pursed tightly as his intense gaze met her eyes. "Because you said they only scarred you _once_."

" _They_?" Her eyes widened slightly. "You mean…"

Jason turned away, leaning his forearms on a nearby railing overlooking a fairly impressive drop to one of the lower levels.

Kara sidled up next to him. "You think my breakup with Brainiac-5 left me damaged."

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Did it?"

She frowned and thought for a moment. "I mean…did it hurt? Yeah. Especially after he told me…" She stopped short and turned her head away.

Jason blinked and stared at the side of her head. "Told you what?"

Silence.

He muscled his tone into something a little softer. "Kara, what did he tell you?"

Kara slowly looked at him, and he realized why she'd turned away. Her eyes were red and cheeks streaked with tear-marks. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, letting out a cracked laugh. "He said he loved me."

Jason's whole body went cold.

"And that was why he had to leave. That I deserved someone better. Someone who could be there when I needed them, that wasn't separated from me by centuries of blood and fire." Kara wiped the back of her hand across her nose as she smiled and stared into the distance. "Until the end."

 _The end._

The two words that had hung over her head since she and Five's Legion of Superheroes had first met. The singular, incomparable battle where history said she would give her life to save her world, and perhaps the universe.

Jason's jaw tightened, clenched, his teeth gritted. And through the silence came a single word halfway between a growl and a hiss.

"Bullshit."

Kara blinked and looked up to see a fire crackling in his eyes.

"Some alien cyborg from the future who spent his adolescence stalking you across time thinks he knows what you need better than you?" Jason snarled. "He wasn't there when you lost your world to the original. He wasn't there when you gave Luthor a piece of your mind after framing Superman for murder. He wasn't there when you carried your cousin's lifeless body back here." He waved at their surroundings. "And he sure as _shit_ wasn't there every day you lift people up…" his lips twitched upward, "with something as simple as a smile."

Kara stared at him blankly, lips parted just so.

Jason shuffled close enough to feel her breath on his face, lowering his voice to a whisper. "So what the hell does _he_ know?"

…

If Kara ever actually needed to breathe, she'd have been out of breath at that moment. Working and training with the Big Three for over half a decade had taught her a lot about reading expressions and vocal tone—and how to hide the same. Precise motor control and near-perfect memory helped refine those skills. She imagined Jason had undergone the same training growing up, and given he'd had a lot more time to practice, he was damn good at it. To the point where she could hardly pick up on his mood shifts without her Kryptonian senses.

At the wedding, their date, even his near-death experience with Philippus; he was always so careful about concealing his emotions, or at least muting their intensity. She could only imagine he thought it intimidating to others. Bits of it leaked through at times, of course. He was still only human. But she had never seen him truly unguarded.

Until now.

Anger shone in his deep blue eyes, made even darker by the shadows cast by the lights at his back. Venom and authority dripped from his every word. Even his whispering voice quivered with the force of barely restrained rage. And he was so _close_. Even without her advanced nose, she'd have been able to smell the faint traces of aftershave and some _really_ expensive cologne. Tack on the Wayne-worthy tux and the slicked-back hair and the red handkerchief in his lapel that drooped ever-so-slightly as his taller form bent over her slightly, and…

In that moment, for the very first time, Kara realized the boy tightly holding her hand was a _prince_ , in every sense of the word.

"J-Jace," she stuttered softly.

"Though I will admit," he interrupted firmly, "he got _one_ thing right."

Kara gulped and blinked owlishly.

Jason's eyes suddenly softened as he cracked the _tiniest_ smile and gently dragged the back of his fingers across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You deserve _so_ much better."

In the months since her breakup with Brainy, Kara had received all sorts of sympathy and support from the people around her, Kal and Lois especially. Stephanie had been an exceptional shoulder to cry on. And she had cried. A lot. That (unbeknownst to Kara since she'd passed out long before the worst) was the _other_ drunk story Steph didn't want anyone to know about, AKA the second time they cleaned out Kal's alien liquor. Other reactions ranged from John Stewart's "does Green Lantern need to choke a bitch" to Diana's advice about grief at the wedding. And for the most part, they reinforced what she already felt about the whole situation and what it would take to move forward.

But none of them, not _one_ , had responded in a way that validated her feelings of betrayal.

Until him.

She didn't even know when she started trembling. Or crying. Well, she'd been doing that for a few minutes already, but it was barely a trickle, easily kept in check. Not the face-twisting, body-wracking sobs that seized her just seconds after Jason stopped talking. His light touch on her face became a firm hand on the back of her head. His heat-radiating closeness became the warmth of his forehead on hers. Her fingers jabbed into his chest and fisted in the fabric of his dress shirt, wrinkling the expensive clothing and possibly tearing it with how hard she was clenching.

He didn't care.

She shook and she cried and held onto him with all she was worth. When she dared to open her eyes in the middle of this, her blurred vision saw those blue irises staring back at her, his gaze firm and reassuring for it. The Girl of Steel, who could now snap him in half in the blink of an eye, and _he_ was holding _her_ up—what incredible irony! But then, that was the whole point, wasn't it? Why Jor-El had sent Kal to Earth, and her parents had done the same for her. Humans were weak, prideful, greedy, corruptible. And then there were people like Lois, like Bruce…like Jason.

Kara's eyes slipped shut and her forehead dragged across his own until it fell to plant into his chest. He didn't say a word or move except to gently stroke her hair until she calmed. Then he drew back, holding her shoulders at arm's length, and looked her in the eye again. One of his hands left her body and dug in his jacket pocket for a second before pulling out a small rectangular box encased in red velvet and wrapped in a green bow.

Jason smiled, eyes shining warmly. "Merry Christmas, Kara Zor-El."

Kara blinked and wiped tears away to clear her vision as she gingerly accepted the box, heart racing. The bow came undone with a gentle pull, the ribbon falling to the ground as she slowly opened the lid. A few more blinks followed before a small gasp entered her lungs.

Inside the box was a thin necklace of silvery metal chain set with three stones. The central piece was a brilliant-cut Australian opal the size of her pinky nail, flanked on either side by smaller, heart-cut rose quartz.

Kara stared at it for a good five seconds before choking out a few words. "H-How much—"

"Excuse me," he interrupted gently, vainly holding back a grin, "but the correct response is…"

She coughed away the last of her tears before laughing and throwing her arms around his neck, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Thank you, Jace."

His arms curled around her torso, pressing her into him protectively. "You are so very welcome."

Kara grinned and drew back, gently lifting the necklace from the box. "Um…would you like to—"

Jason smiled and took it from her, waiting for her to turn around before unlinking the chain and drawing it around her neck so the opal rested on her sternum. She looked up to see him gazing back at her. Kara grinned toothily and wrapped her fingers around his jaw to pull him down. After a bit of awkward maneuvering, they decided an upside-down kiss was too much trouble and settled for the old-fashioned standing, spooning, over-the-shoulder kiss.

Which was how Stephanie and Tim found them a few minutes later.

…

"This isn't going to end well."

Bruce frowned, but didn't disagree.

Kory was referring to the news broadcast on the TV, a recast of the Quraci prime minister's speech from last night, set against the backdrop of troop movements along the Qurac-Bialya border. The Quraci military wasn't deploying just yet, but the fortifications being put in place were _not_ just for show.

"And to think," Sasha mused, "a few years ago, they were thick as thieves. All it took was an accident mid-battle to shatter that peace."

Dick shook his head, arm around his fiancé. "Chalk one more casualty up to Olympus."

"If war does break out in the region," Bruce said darkly, "I doubt it'll be just one."

An exaggerated _click_ sounded from behind, turning the screen to black, the room turning to see Selina tossing the TV's remote.

"That's enough of that," she said. "For God's sake, it's _Christmas_. Can't you all take a night off for once?"

"Well put," chimed Diana as she clinked her glass with Selina's.

They downed their drinks together (Diana having swapped hers for sparkling water) and shook their heads at the others in mock disappointment before breaking out into laughter. Dick exchanged a look with Bruce before shrugging and tugging Kory over toward the kitchen to refill their own glasses. Damian walked over to his father and nudged him gently to get his attention.

When Bruce met his eyes, he was caught off-guard by how serious he looked. "Something wrong?"

"I heard from Cassandra that you and the runt are going to Singapore soon."

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "You're the same height."

Damian ignored him. "I'm coming with you."

"So is Diana. So if you're gone, who's watching Gotham?"

"Kyle and Gordon for two, and you can contact Azrael if you're feeling desperate." His green eyes narrowed. "But I want in. The Decembrists have been dogging our family for months, and I'm not staying here while you and Jason go to cut off the head."

"We don't know that we will be. It seems the more threads we tug on, the more there is to pull. This could be a dead end for all we know."

Damian crossed his arms. "Father, don't patronize me. We both know you wouldn't be dragging your pregnant wife across the world for a wild goose chase. And if this vendetta is anything like the Court of Owls incident, you'll need all hands on deck."

Bruce's lips pursed tightly. "Fine. But don't think that'll get you out of your studies. It hasn't for Jason."

He smirked and waved dismissively as he walked away. "Never even crossed my mind."

…

"Mind giving me a minute?" Jason asked as soon as they stepped out of the study elevator an hour later.

Kara smiled at Jason and nodded, peeling off to chat up Barbara.

Jason, meanwhile, made his way to another woman standing in the hallway, who was currently admiring one of the many suits of armor strewn about the manor. "You brought the…item, I hope?"

Selina smirked and side-eyed him hard. "Who do you think you're talking to? Of _course_ I got it. It's already waiting for you down in the cave, like you asked."

"Splendid." Jason chuckled. "Can't wait to put it to good use."

She arched a raven eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. "What do you even _need_ with that much—"

"Bat-swag."

Her other eyebrow joined the first.

Jason grinned sheepishly. " _Functional_ Bat-swag. Hopefully it'll be ready in time for Singapore."

"Nice country, plenty to nab when no one's looking."

"Not that you go for that sort of thing these days anyway."

Selina smirked. "Not that anyone needs to know about." She winked. "And certainly not for free."

Jason coughed hard. "Yeah, please don't remind me. Imma have to give up my Rolos for a month after that."

"Way to sort your priorities," she laughed.

He threw her an offended look. "Hey, never scoff at the value of chocolate-wrapped caramel in a time of crisis."

"Eh, I've stolen for less."

"Anyway, thank you, Aunt Sel." Jason smiled. "In all seriousness, I'll put it to good use."

Selina smiled back. "I have no doubt." Her head tilted curiously. "I'll admit, I had my doubts when they first got together, but…Di and Bruce make some gorgeous babies."

Jason chortled and shook his head. Behind them, Tim poked his head into the hallway and jerked his thumb toward the other room.

"Uh, guys? Al's about ready to give his special send-off for the night."

Jason grinned. "We're coming." He waved to Selina to follow him. "Come on! This is gonna be great!"

She sidled in behind him as the family gathered in the atrium around their tree, which was much smaller and less gaudy than it had been in previous years. Lucius and Alfred stood in front of it while facing the rest, smiling warmly.

"It has been a very long, difficult year," Alfred said. "Fraught with many trials and hardships…" he smiled, "and as many triumphs." He raised his glass toward Bruce and Diana. "Our best and oldest finally tied the knot, and the next generation is preparing to do the same."

Dick and Kory grinned and held each other as applause and whistles filled the room.

"Dear Stephanie has just graduated and been accepted to Columbia University."

More clapping ensued as Tim kissed the side of her head.

"Master Damian celebrates three years leading the Titans."

Damian smirked as Dick and Tim gave him a polite golf clap and Kory laughed while applauding loudly.

"And…" Alfred cast a glance between Diana and Jason, "we've welcomed the newest member of the family."

Kara poked him in the ribs and cuddled his side amid another round of applause.

"With any luck, the next year will bring with it even greater joy and accomplishment for us all."

And with that, Alfred raised his glass and Lucius hit a control behind his back. The immediate result sent an eruption of sparks and light spewing from the crown of the tree, cascading down in interlacing patterns of gold and red. They formed one image after another: the iconic crest of Wayne Tower, the sword-bearing statue of Lady Justice in front of City Hall, a silhouette of the manor's front gate, and of course, the trademark Bat-signal. Slowly, but surely, they rose again to form a series of letters from opposite ends, spelling " _ **MERRY CHRISTMAS!**_ " before finally fading.

A long round of applause followed the display, and as soon as things quieted down some, Tim stepped forward to ask Lucius how he did it.

Before he'd gotten more than a word out, the older man said, "Pre-laid combustible nanowire set by a mini-drone with microspinner capabilities. Barely visible when dispensed, but when lit makes for a pretty spectacular show."

Tim laughed and rejoined his girlfriend as the rest of the family continued milling about. It was about thirty seconds later that Jason approached Lucius, catching his attention with a cough.

"Mr. Fox."

He smiled and tilted his head in deference. "Mr. Wayne."

"I may need your help with something in the next couple days; there are some preparations I need to make prior to an overseas trip, and—"

"I'm aware of your Singapore excursion. We have a distant partner in the region, so I'll be coming with you as a means of diverting attention."

Jason smiled and clapped once. "Perfect. Then we'll have plenty of time to go over the details."

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Details I assume we'll be discussing with your parents."

He put a finger to his lips. "Not this one." He grinned deviously. "I want it to be a surprise."

Fox sighed and shook his head, smiling fondly. "Seems your father passed on his propensity for causing trouble."

Jason chuckled. "It'll only be trouble if we get it wrong."

Lucius frowned and nodded slowly. "Come by my office when you get the chance, and we'll talk about it."

"Awesome. See you then."

…

An hour later, it was time for everyone to disperse, which meant Kara too. As Jason escorted her to the cave's teleporter, he gently squeezed her hand. She smiled up at him, absently fingering her new necklace with her other hand.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Jason leaned in and tickled his nose with her hair. "Had to find something you wouldn't _completely_ outshine."

Kara blushed and smacked his chest weakly. "Stop flattering me, you idiot."

"Mmmm, no."

She sighed, which turned into a groan as they stepped off the elevator. "Ugh, now I have to go back to work." Her eyes widened. " _Oh_ …crap. The cameras saw me teleport out. That's gonna be a pain to explain."

Jason snorted and waved dismissively. "Oh, Steph took care of that crap before the Zetas even went out. The camera feed was looped and spliced with footage of you scooting around the office and whatnot. Oracle taught her how to spoof a repeating feed so it looks more natural, and that loop is gonna keep going for another…thirty minutes or so. Meaning…"

Kara grinned. "Superspeed sorting, hell yeah."

He chuckled. "Figured you'd appreciate that."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek again. "Thank you for tonight, Jace. I really needed it." Her smile thinned a bit, voice heavy. "All of it."

Jason blinked and met her eyes. "I meant what I said, you know. Every word."

Kara smiled. "I know. I can hear your heartbeat, remember?"

"Yeah, it's just—"

She shushed him with a finger on his lips. "Thank you." She simpered. "Tonight was a really amazing second date."

"Sooo…how long until the third?"

Kara laughed. "Both of us are gonna be busy for a while, so…we'll have to wait and see."

"Fair enough." He pecked her forehead. "I'll see you later, Kay."

"See ya, Jace."

With that, he powered on the teleporter and waved to her as she vanished in a flash of blue streaks.

…

Three days later, everything was ready. Cass had seen to the arrangements on her end, even reconned the area in question, which was an island development zone to the far northwest of the bulk of the city-state. Scans of the perimeter and initial areas of the structure revealed no less than twenty bodies on-site at any given time, with little movement in or out for the three days she had been watching them. Infrared and sonar revealed a few major hotspots of activity, including what she guessed was a server room. Given the Decembrists' history and reputation (or lack thereof), they could only assume that everyone in there would be armed and well-trained.

At present, Bruce, Diana, Damian, and Jason were packing the various tools and gear they would need to make entry while keeping it concealed in the cargo hold of the Wayne Enterprises company jet. Midway through inventory, Jason vanished into a side room of their private hangar, the crew not coming for another hour or so. Damian frowned at his exit and shot Bruce and Di a look. They shrugged and kept packing, so Dami did the same.

That was, until a quiet series of metallic clicks caught their attention and they turned to see Jason holding up a large, round shield of interlocking trapezoids surrounding a small round centerpiece. The shield was comprised entirely of a gunmetal gray material, with each of the eight trapezoids laden with extensive cross-hatching that dampened the metal's natural shine without making it completely dull. The centerpiece was comprised of a ring surrounding a circle bearing the image of dark red wings, much like the insignia on Jason's armor. The boy holding it grinned and raised it a little higher, with one hand on the rim to turn it this way and that.

"So," he said, "what do you guys think?"

Damian frowned and huffed. "I think I just figured out what you and Fox have been working on since the party."

"You like it? Pure Nth-metal, contained in the hollow of the centerpiece until deployed."

He did something on the other end to show this exact effect as the segments folded into each other counterclockwise until only one trapezoidal form was seen. Then even that retracted into the centerpiece, revealing Jason's hand and the glove-like metal straps that anchored the shield to it.

"The grip is molded specifically to my hands so I can get it on and off quickly, and we designed it to be ambidextrous in case I need to use it with my right. It's a fraction of the weight of conventional riot shields thanks to Nth-metal's gravity alteration, but tougher than just about anything we've got on the books."

"I know about your sword," Diana said, "but why a shield?"

Jason frowned. "After my first…outing without my powers, seeing how easy it was to get pinned down by ranged fire, I knew I needed a way to even the odds somehow. If I can't do that by matching their firepower, I want a shield their guns can't get through." His lips pursed tightly. "Plus, the whole reason I forged that sword was to counteract the magic of whoever juiced up Cheetah in the future. If they've got offensive _and_ defensive magic, a shield capable of nullifying that would come in handy."

Diana nodded slowly.

Bruce's arms crossed. "What I want to know is how you got your hands on that much Nth-metal."

Jason chuckled and scratched his head sheepishly. "Well…"

"Jason…"

"Look, I _tried_ to get it the right way. Took me _forever_ to find the right museum, but when I made an offer, they wouldn't part with it. Claimed the exhibit was too new and they were getting more revenue than I could compensate them for."

Diana's eyebrows shot skyward. "So you stole it? You robbed a museum?"

Jason gasped and stared at her in affront. "I absolutely did not!" His voice lowered a bit as he shrugged. "I paid a professional thief to rob the museum."

As one, his parents shouted, "Jason!"

He threw his hands up. "What? I tried to take it off their hands _legally_ , but they kept jacking the price up and my trust fund isn't unlimited." His head tilted slightly. "So I got the friends and family discount from Catwoman."

At the side-eyes and amused look he kept getting from his parents and Damian, respectively, Jason kept talking.

"Look, it's better off in my hands than out in the open, right? Where someone could discover what they're actually _sitting_ _on_ and sell it on the black market." He snorted. "Frankly, I'm surprised someone else didn't steal it before us."

Something about the way he said it sent Bruce's eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Someone already did, didn't they?"

Jason blinked uncomprehendingly, pointing at his new shield. "Obviously not."

"He meant in the future," Damian clarified.

To that, he said nothing.

"So," Diana said cautiously, giving his new toy a nod, "how big of a crisis did making that shield avert?"

Jason met her gaze carefully, a small, enigmatic smile quirking his lips. "Yeah…" his head shook slowly, "I'm not gonna answer that."

Bruce and Di exchanged a look before turning back to their youngest.

"Then get it loaded and let's get going," Bruce said. "We're burning daylight, and the flight to Singapore is going to take until tomorrow."

"You got it," Jason replied as he marched up the ramp to the cargo hold.

Damian snorted and smirked as he finished sharpening his ninjato to a razor-fine edge before slipping it into its sheath and packing it away with the rest of his gear. "This is gonna be _fun_."

"With a capital F-U!" Jason shouted from the hold.

Damian broke out cackling while his parents just rolled their eyes.

…

When they touched down in Singapore, Jason was immediately caught off-guard by how bright the place was. Given the high concrete and metal content in most American airports, the sheer amount of natural light streaming in snatched his attention. Not to mention the gigantic water—fountain—thing in the center of the large atrium that made up the bulk of the main building.

"Welcome to Singapore," Mr. Fox said, smirking at Jason's awestruck look. "I'll have someone get your bags to the hotel if you want to go on ahead."

Jason snorted. "It's fine; I got it. If you want something done right…"

"We'll get settled in then get to business," Diana interrupted as she dragged three large suitcases behind her in a rather awkward positioning.

Coughing softly, Jason took one of them to avoid attracting attention. A slew of English and Far East languages swirled around him from the airport staff and passersby. Most of it he managed to pick up, but his mind wasn't as fast as it used to be, and cycling through the languages took some effort. Glancing back at Bruce, who was dragging his own suitcase behind him and absently checking his watch, Jason looked around for a familiar face in the crowd who was supposed to meet them at the gate. Damian noticed her absence as well.

"It isn't like her to be late," he said.

Jason's head shook slowly. "You don't think the Decembrists caught her on recon, do you?"

He snorted derisively. "Tim, perhaps, but not Cassandra. If she's not here already, there's good reason."

"If who's not here?"

They both jumped, though Damian tried a little harder to hide it, and whirled toward the new voice. Standing with her hands clasped behind her back was a very smug-looking Cass, who neither had noticed sneaking up behind them. Damian scowled a bit and looked away to hide his embarrassment while Jason practically tackled her in a hug.

"It's so good to see you, sis." Jason drew back and held her at arm's length, noting her attire was well-suited for the tropical climate. "How long has it been? Since the wedding?"

She nodded and rapped her knuckles against his chest. "Too long. How've you been?"

He shrugged and grinned, curling an arm around her shoulders. "Eh, same old same old, minus powers of course."

Cass frowned. "Yes, I heard about that."

Jason smiled ruefully. "Arguably the best thing I never wanted to happen to me. Forced me to slow down, see things from a new perspective."

She nodded slowly. "Yes…I can certainly understand that. Been there myself."

Jason blinked and glanced at her shoulder when one of her tank top's straps slipped loose briefly. She quickly fixed it back in place, a flicker of discomfort flashing across her face, but not for any physical reason. He knew the scars that hid under that thin fabric, and how self-conscious they made her. For that reason, he turned away and reached down to heft one of the suitcases and distract her.

"Care to help us move all this?"

Cass smiled and nodded, taking it from him seemingly without effort. For having such a slight frame, she was almost inhumanly strong, certainly more so than anyone would expect from a glance. Which, he supposed, was part of the reason she spent most of her time alone. In recent or historical memory, Jason couldn't seem to remember any of her relationships lasting more than a couple months. The ones that weren't frightened off by her scars often felt unduly emasculated when they realized how little she needed protection. Next to Kara, Jason had never met another woman who made him feel more mistrust and disdain for the male race.

Pushing that aside, he focused on the lighthearted small talk being exchanged.

"How was your trip?" Cass asked.

"Uneventful, thankfully," Bruce answered. "I'd wager the mild winter has something to do with that."

"Though we did hit a spot of turbulence over the Philippines," Diana added.

"A mild spot," Damian corrected. "If a little long-lasting."

"Speaking of turbulence," Cass interrupted, "we may have some issues getting to our destination all together."

Bruce frowned but nodded. "I figured as much. We'll split up leaving the hotel."

Jason's hand shot up. "Dibs on riding with Cass."

Diana chuckled.

"Then I hope you don't mind riding backseat on my bike," Cassandra said.

"Can't wait," he grinned.

The limo ride to the hotel was short and uneventful, if a little tense. They were on foreign soil about to storm an island that was, for all intents and purposes, owned and controlled by a criminal syndicate. It was four humans and a four-month-pregnant demigod versus however many dozens inside. Assuming they were all fighters, of course. Given the kit they'd provided Lewis and the overall trouble they'd been responsible for, Jason was betting on it. They'd have to wait until nightfall either way, so no point in obsessing over it now.

The hotel and penthouse suite chosen for them was a gaudy spectacle of modern engineering, as expected of the Wayne family. Cass had checked in a day earlier to prepare for their arrival and sweep the place for bugs; paparazzi had a notorious habit of breaking into rooms and planting audio and video recorders in an attempt to get juicy details on famous people. If they managed to pull one over on the Waynes, it would be the most disastrously profitable wiretap in pap _history_.

Jason let out a long whistle as he entered the room, getting a panoramic view of the glittering metropolitan skyline.

Cass smiled and nudged his arm. "Wait 'til you see it at night."

He chuckled and hefted his suitcase into one of the neighboring rooms, which he'd be sharing with Damian. He zipped it open and shifted his clothes into the drawers of a nearby dresser, then returned to the case and flicked a switch on the inside, snapping open a hidden compartment shielded against x-ray and other airport scanning techniques. Inside was the majority of his gear, save his helmet. His armor was designed to collapse inward, despite its extensive construction, for just this reason.

Despite assuming that he'd be able to fly anywhere in the world he needed to (and thereby avoid the hassle of air travel requirements), Jason had, in classic Bat style, accounted for the possibility—read _likelihood_ —that he would find himself without his powers at some point. Well, technically _Damian_ had as soon as he'd come to terms with how stubborn Jason was about going to the past. Jason supposed his rationale was something along the lines of, "If you're going to do this anyway, I'm going to make sure you do it right." His helmet, on the other hand, was tucked away in one of Bruce's bags. He'd have to retrieve it before they rolled out for the night.

Breathing in slowly, Jason mentally braced himself for the ordeal ahead. This would be the first time since losing his powers that he'd be working directly alongside the family, and the first time ever serving as backup to his parents. It had long been a fantasy of his to kick ass alongside Wonder Woman as equals, a possibility now rendered null by his lack of powers. He'd have to settle instead for kicking ass back-to-back with Batman.

 _Not bad for a consolation,_ he thought with a smirk.

Not that anyone in their right mind could ever call his father second best.

Jason marched into the suite's main room once he'd sorted out his gear for easy access to find that Bruce had set up a portable holoprojector on the dining table while Diana drew the curtains for added privacy.

Cass was the first to step up to the table as the lights dimmed and the projector came alive. "Our target is a server hub owned and run by the Decembrists." A wireframe drawing of the now-familiar structure appeared at her touch. "According to deep sonar scans of the area, much of the structure appears to be underground, which would explain how little movement there is on the surface. I wouldn't be surprised if they tunneled their way to connect a less suspect area with this base of operations as means of getting supplies in and out. The entrance is disguised as a sheet metal shack covered in various foliage to give the appearance of an abandoned dwelling.

"Getting inside, however, requires access via a two-part combination of biometrics and a four-digit code. I have the code thanks to telephoto surveillance, however handling the biometric portion is proving difficult. We would have to wait for one of their personnel to access the door, then slip in behind them as quickly and quietly as possible. Assuming, of course, that we manage to dodge or fool the perimeter and door cameras."

"Or," Jason suggested, "we could, you know, just blow the door down." He waved at Diana. "Or Mom could rip it off."

Diana frowned and crossed her arms. "If they do have an escape route on standby, a loud entry would only send them fleeing. We'd lose access to the people in charge of this operation."

Damian stroked his chin. "Any ideas where this tunnel of theirs might lead?"

Cassandra tilted her head. "A few, yes, but there are enough ports in the area to spread us entirely too thin."

"In case worse comes to worst," Bruce said, "I've retasked a Wayne Enterprises satellite to monitor the area. Lucius will be on standby tonight; his meeting isn't until tomorrow, so I'll have him running point on our infotech."

"Shouldn't he be here for this, then?" Damian asked.

"We included him in the planning process for this operation from inception. He already knows all the details." Bruce waved at the projector. "This briefing is more for _your_ benefit."

Damian frowned, but nodded.

"Looping the cameras is our best bet at silent entry, but they're on a closed system and their security is bound to catch on quickly once they register the door opening."

Damian's eyes lit up. "We could EMP the whole complex, shut down all their electronic security in one stroke, then rip the door off like Jason suggested."

"Which would also fry all the active servers down there," Cassandra rebutted, "not to mention a great deal of the surrounding area, given the radius we would need. It would attract far too much attention."

"Then we keep it localized," Bruce said. "A technical failure in a rainforest prone to severe weather isn't unusual. At worst, we can make entry ourselves without tipping them off too much. At best, they'll send someone out to check on their broken tech—"

"Leaving the door wide open," Jason finished with a grin.

"Exactly."

A few moments of silence passed before Diana spoke up. "I suppose the only question now is who goes where once we're inside."

Jason's hand shot up. "Dibs on Dad!"

Damian rolled his eyes while Cass smirked and Diana smothered a chuckle.

Bruce arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "Then you'll be coming with Robin and me to secure the server room. Diana, Cass, you're on the leader. Analyze their pattern of movement once they get the alarm out; find whoever they're protecting and take them in."

Cass nodded and exchanged a grin with Diana.

Bruce looked around the now-silent room for a bit before nodding. "If there's nothing else, we should all get some rest before tonight. Dismissed."

The family dispersed to opposite ends of the suite, Jason hanging about the kitchen and popping the fridge to uncover a large bowl of chilled fruit cocktail. Quietly muttering "dibs," he pulled out the bowl and seated himself on one of the couches overlooking the skyline. After a few minutes of quiet munching, he felt the couch dip beside him with a slighter weight than his own.

"Come to watch the sunset?" he asked.

Cass dipped her hand into the bowl and stole a cantaloupe skewer. "I rarely have the time to enjoy it these days. Considering the never-ending overlap of my two jobs, free time is hard to come by and never consistent."

Jason frowned curiously. "What _are_ your jobs? I've always been a little fuzzy on that."

She cleared her throat. "Well, my dayjob involves finding and relocating orphans and abused all over East Asia, typically victims of gang violence and other organized crime."

"And let me guess: your nightjob involves tracking down those criminals and putting the fear of God in them."

"Among other things, yes. Some of the people I set up elsewhere are people I've actually pulled out of danger zones."

"That's gotta be a great feeling."

She frowned and bowed her head. "Sometimes. The truth is…I find it a bit demoralizing after a while. My job is a help to these people, certainly, but I'm the only field agent—off the books, no less. We can only do so much from behind a desk, even with support from the UN and Red Cross."

Jason sighed and gently took her hand. "The worst part about losing my powers was feeling helpless to make a difference, feeling inadequate for the task set before me. It took me _weeks_ to realize why: I felt alone. It was me versus the world, all on my shoulders." He smiled. "It took another month or so for someone to beat into me that I was wrong." He faced her and curled an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "You're not alone, Cass. We may be across the world from each other, but I have a plane—and Tim will hack the Watchtower teleporters if I ask him."

She chuckled.

His gaze sharpened. "So, if you ever start feeling inadequate or need help, you just say the word and I'll be there." His smile widened. "What else is family for?"

Cass stared back at him blankly, her lips slowly spreading in a warm smile as she hugged him close. He held her back, his fingers brushing over a patch of skin on her lower back, exposed by her shirt riding up. His index traced the jagged form of a thin scar, pulling his mouth into a frown. Jason's arms tightened around her a moment later, a protective warmth filling his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Jason managed a small smile and pulled back to kiss her cheek. "My pleasure."

When they pulled away, it was to remain cuddled against each other as they turned back to the setting sun. Which was how the others found them sleeping a few hours later as they prepared to roll out. Diana couldn't stop grinning and snapped a picture before leaving her phone with their bags. Bruce gently shook Cass to avoid her knee-jerk defense response, and she quietly woke Jason once she reoriented herself.

Ten minutes later, they were ready to go with portable cases fitted to hold their gear while in transit. Jason tightened his backpack as he waited for Cass in an alley near the hotel, flipping through his phone. He tabbed over to his texts and quickly typed one off as he heard the approaching _hiss_ of motorcycle wheels on pavement.

[Hey, Kara. Just a heads up: I'm gonna be out of contact for a bit. That Singapore gig with the fam? It's going down tonight. With any luck, we'll finally know what that kidnapping was all about by tomorrow. Talk later. xoxo]

He smiled and locked the phone before tossing it into his backpack and turning to Cass, who'd swapped her light wear for yoga pants and a cyclist's jacket. Jason mounted up behind her, linking his arms across her midriff after they both donned helmets. The earpiece built into the helmets clicked on a moment later.

"Everyone set?" Diana asked.

"Roger," Jason replied.

"Yes," Cass said.

"Of course," said Damian, who was riding with them.

"Always," Bruce intoned.

"Then let's go get some answers," Diana uttered firmly.

With that, Cass gunned the throttle of her bike, shooting off onto the darkened streets of Singapore with Jason whooping at the top of his lungs. She laughed briefly before leaning in and hitting the gas, speeding them toward their inevitable confrontation with the Decembrists.

And a truth none of them were ready to face.

* * *

AN: So sorry for the delay, but unfortunately, this is how it'll be for a bit while I have to juggle 19 credits' worth of classes. This chapter was…unusual for me, as many of you can probably tell, but I enjoyed writing it all the same. I had intended for it to go further into the plot, especially with the Decembrists, but after all the dialogue and whatnot, I decided to clip this part here.

The next part or parts will conclude this story arc, and with it Act I of _The Tomorrow Knight_. Consider it the season finale, if you will, with all the answers and questions you might expect from one. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; please give me some feedback on the various characters and dialogues I included. It was hard enough coming up with the appropriate actors for this part of the drama. Matching their personalities with their speech was even harder.

Plus, I always worry that action-light (or absent) chapters remain my weak point, so any feedback would be great. Thanks.

Next part to come sooner than later, I hope.

Drake out.

P.S.: I've decided that given how long it's taken me to get this far in the story, I will be splitting this into five parts or seasons, each with their own separate entry on this site. You may notice that the title of this story has been changed to "The Tomorrow Knight: Origins." That was purposeful. The next chapter and epilogue will cap off this story and lead into the next one: "The Tomorrow Knight: Vagabonds." So be on the lookout for that once this one is finished. Or better yet, follow me as an author and you'll get the update when the new story is out.


	15. The Decembrists, Part II

When the EMP went off, there was a twenty-second delay before the hatch popped open and three muzzles greeted the darkness of the jungle. Two of them continued scanning the surrounding area with barrel-mounted flashlights while the third slung his weapon and began examining the faulty tech. The faintest _whir_ of spinning blades came from their blind spot a split-second before two batarangs pierced the firing mechanisms of their weapons. They had barely a moment to process that before a _pop_ sounded as the guns were sheared in half from the batarangs' localized thermite payload.

The third brought his weapon to bear in time for a golden cord to loop around its barrel, the force of it being pulled from his grip almost enough to dislocate his arms. The other two went for their sidearms only to find themselves pinned under a large piece of sheet metal when Wonder Woman kicked one of the shack's walls down. Through that breach dove a living shadow, who rolled into a gut punch to the third guard. As he reeled, the Batman grabbed him by the head and brought his armored forehead down, knocking him out cold with a nauseating _crunch_.

Wonder Woman just stepped on the fallen wall hard as she strode in, the sudden pressure silencing the others' struggles. Glowing lenses snapped down over Batman's eyes as he frowned at the open hatch. They vanished a moment later as he turned to the four others present.

"Seems they're none the wiser. For now. They'll be expecting a report soon from these three, so we'll need to move quickly. I give us two minutes before the alarms start blaring."

"Then let's find the server room in one," Robin said as he twirled a shuriken between his fingers.

He exchanged a nod with the Knight and Batman before they leapt into the hatch and descended into the pitch-dark hallways below. The composite ceramic-carbon fiber makeup of Batman's Mark XVI armor gave him maximum protection for minimal weight by stacking interlocking trauma plates over a tripolymer undersuit with a layer of anti-ballistic gel between the two. With the latest in WayneTech body armor, he could potentially run into a hailstorm of small arms fire without it so much as slowing him down, but with so many unique weapons and ammo on the market nowadays (e.g., Roadrunner's diamond bullet), he would never rely on it to keep him alive.

It also, however, provided him a significant stealth advantage between the sound-absorbent soles and matte steel-gray-black color scheme. The large bat-symbol over his chest served as additional armor for his heart and lungs—and spine. Even if Barbara's new implant had finally managed to cure her paralysis, he had no intentions of having to rely on biotech to maintain the use of his legs. Of course, that wouldn't help if someone like Bane ever got a hold of him and accomplished what he originally intended…

The thought of the memory alone set his teeth on edge as he and the others proceeded deeper into the underground complex, a thermal scan revealing several large hotspots a few floors down. That was _not_ a night he liked to remember for several reasons, not the least of which how he'd first treated Diana when she arrived to help. Then there was the ambush at the Batcave after he'd answered a distress call from Alfred toward the tail end of the night. Bane waited until he, Robin, Caden, and Wonder Woman had dealt with three cascading crises to make his move…and it almost worked.

It _would've_ , had Caden not caught onto his nonfunctional transmitter and doubled back to the cave in time to disable one of Bane's Venom injectors with a crack-shot. But even _he_ hadn't been able to handle the roided-out crime lord for long. In the end, Batman tethered Bane to the Batmobile and took him on a ride that disabled his other injector and would've left a lesser man in a body cast for months. As it happened, he had just enough strength to throw one more blow when Bruce confronted him face-to-face. Worn down to the barest edge, no enhancements or equipment to aid them.

The Batman left Bane with one last message before punting him off a cliff into one of the ripping water currents that ran through the cavern.

" _I'm the Batman…and you are_ nothing _. Now get the hell out of my city."_

Then promptly collapsed into an exhausted pile of armor and broken bones.

That was more than three years ago, and Bane hadn't returned since.

Upon returning to find the busted-up pair of fighters in the cave, Diana and Damian had scrambled to wake Alfred to get them treated. Of the two, Bruce had definitely been worse off, physically and mentally, until he woke after a particularly bad fever dream to find Diana firmly gripping his hand. It was then that he finally understood what he had refused to believe: she wouldn't leave him. No matter how he raged or screamed or shut down, she wouldn't go. No matter the reasons he tried to give her (you're a princess from an island of immortal warriors, I'm a rich kid with issues…lots of issues). No matter the self-deprecation or assurances that she could do better than a walking case study in PTSD and paranoia.

Even the threat of his enemies coming for her should they discover their relationship didn't scare her off…although in retrospect, he knew he was foolish for ever thinking it would. She fought gods and monsters, for Pete's sake! But then, he'd never been one to trust people any further than the mission. Even his own son, to a degree, was kept at arm's length for fear of betrayal (a not entirely ungrounded fear, given his upbringing). All that changed when he finally let her in.

And now here they were, sneaking their way into an enemy stronghold with their children, adopted or otherwise.

The hotspots Batman had marked earlier clearly represented one of the server hubs. Now they just needed to find a way there through this maze-like complex. If they weren't A: trying to avoid the alarms as long as possible, or B: worried about damaging the servers; they might've been able to just breach the floors between them with shaped charges. The bunker's construction was sturdy, but not up to military specifications or anything that would resist the expanding gel explosives Batman favored.

Absent that option, the old-fashioned way it was. TK and Robin were actively scanning for potential escape routes while Wonder Woman and Black Bat held their flank. It wasn't long before they found themselves at a split, both passages going down. Bruce and Diana exchanged a nod before they branched off into their set groups. Batman took point going down the steps, a sonar pulse revealing two bodies moving across the landing. He silently brought up a hand and motioned for the two following him to watch for other potential interference, then leapt the stairs two and three at a time just fast enough to put his arrival time right when one was passing in front of the doorway.

His head slammed into a large pipe crisscrossing the wall, no doubt giving him a concussion in addition to an instant KO. The one behind him gasped in startled fear, but Batman pinned him to the wall with his forearm before he could get a word out in alarm. He increased the force on his arm gradually, directing it toward the blood vessels carrying oxygen to his brain. The guard slumped to the floor moments later, unconscious for now. Confirming they were down, Bruce motioned the others to join him and proceeded inward, checking each corner before moving. Glancing back, he saw that Robin already had a hand on his sword and TK was holding the shield glove in his left hand, though it was as-yet undeployed.

Another check on thermal verified that they were close to the server room, and a following sonar pulse revealed no less than twenty people inside. A click in his ear pulled his attention for a second before he activated comms.

"Here."

Diana's voice came across the line, tight and quiet. "No dice on the leader, but we found something else of interest: not everyone is here by choice."

"Kidnapped?"

"Or indentured to pay off debts," Black Bat replied.

"Either way," Diana cut in, "we could find ourselves in a hostage situation if we're not careful."

"Copy. We'll keep an eye out on our end; prioritize those civilians. We don't want them here when we burn this place down."

"Burn it down?" Jason asked. "Thought we needed the intel."

"We do, but once we turn this place over, I have no intentions of leaving it standing. If I have to call in the Batwing to send a bunker-buster in once we evacuate, I'll do it."

Robin gave him a feral grin. "At the very least, it'll be one less hidey-hole for the Decembrists."

"And a message that we mean business."

TK nodded and checked their six, squinting at something in the distance for a second before tapping his gauntlet to activate his comm. "Think I might've found a locked storage room. Best guess, that's where they keep the guns they ship out to people like Lewis."

"Then that's where we'll put the first explosives," Damian said.

"Not before we pocket a few samples, though."

They both gave him a look at that.

Jason shrugged. "What? Not like I'm gonna use 'em, but the weapons we've been running into lately have made our body armor pretty irrelevant. Maybe we'll be able to reverse-engineer some way to counter that."

Bruce's lips pursed; he suspected there was more to it than that, but wasn't about to argue. "We'll see. For now, our priority is that server room. Now that we know there's a mixed crowd, check your targets first."

They nodded and followed his lead down the next hallway, Batman spotting a panning camera halfway down. He scanned for any more EM emissions that could indicate electronic monitoring in alternate paths to the server room and held back a curse.

"No matter which way we go, we'll be spotted or draw attention by taking out their surveillance." He tapped his earpiece. "Diana, what's your 20 on the leader?"

"Can't seem to find any central location where security is clustered, aside from the server room. There's really no way of telling. Why?"

"To get to the server room unseen, we'll have to knock out the cameras."

"Which will draw suspicion." She sighed. "Guess it was too much to hope we could keep this quiet forever. All right, ready when you are."

"We'll keep an eye out for whoever bolts first," Cass said.

Batman nodded grimly and drew a batarang. "Roger that. Standby to engage."

A faint _whizz_ of air was the only indication of the batarang's flight into the power cables networking the nearest camera to the facility's security systems. The moment it was down, Batman and his backup stormed down the wide staircase as quietly as possible, rounding the corner to find two guards armed with long guns moving in opposite directions. The first one raised his weapon just in time to cry out as his shoulder was pierced by Batman's grapnel and he was yanked face-first into the ground. His exclamation drew the attention of the guard at his back, a woman with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. A magazine-fed shotgun came up to her shoulder at the same time that Batman leapt toward the wall on his right.

Her first shot went wide, scattering pellets into the distance, a few pinging off TK's body armor. Batman, on the other hand, had anticipated the panic response and tic-tacked off the wall into a flying cross that worked her head around and laid her out with the combined force of his rapid motion.

"Engaging!" Wonder Woman shouted over their link as Robin curb-stomped the one on the ground.

Batman grappled with the woman, elbowing her wrist to get the shotgun out of her grip, then twisting his body and using his hips to hurl her into the server room doors. The double-doors swung open with a bang, revealing three armed men on the other side. Without hesitation, Batman dove sideways and threw a smoke pellet into the room. Automatic gunfire sprayed through the doorway, finding nothing but the concrete that made up the far wall. Bruce brought his arm up to shield his face from any potential ricochets, glancing back to see the Knight sprinting toward the open doorway, his shield rapidly expanding to full size.

Robin had his back, using his brother as cover as they stepped into the breach. The guards focused their fire on the pair, to little effect given how much panicked Malay was being shouted. The instant the majority of them fell on empty chambers, Robin leapt out from behind TK and slashed his sword through one of their rifles in the same motion as his draw. Jason likewise charged and tackled one of them shield-first, one of the only ones who still had ammo. His close proximity sent the incoming rounds ricocheting across the room, several panicked screams coming from the people who had up until then been sitting at a dozen keyboards.

A glance as Batman stormed into the room confirmed that none of them were armed, so he quickly turned to engage other threats. Robin side-kicked one thug trying to reload, Batman following up with a charging heel-kick that sent him flying back into one of the workstations. Three more ran in from a door on the opposite end of the thirty-foot-long enclosure, only one of them toting a gun while the other two brandished what appeared to be…machetes? Batman instantly threw a batarang at the gun-toting thug, only a quick duck allowing him to avoid the weapon. Unfortunately for him, Batman had already closed half the distance in the time it took him to align the sight picture.

A trio of rounds burst from the gun as Bruce weaved between the server stacks, panicked shouting in Malay stopping him from opening fire with the delicate electronics as his backstop. Instead, the machete-wielders moved around to box him in on other side of the server stack. The one closest to the gunman found himself laid out with a flying knee to the face, his machete snatched up and thrown into the barrel of the gun. The weighty impact of the weapon sent his barrel elsewhere long enough for Bruce to close the distance. The gunman, having expected this, backed up and dropped the rifle in favor for a knife he kept on a strap across his chest.

Several high-pitched _pings_ joined the cacophony of grunts and shuffles in the room as Batman deflected the fast swings of his opponent's knife. The other machete thug came up behind him, swinging hard in a stroke that would've taken off his hand at the wrist. Batman twirled his body in a spinning trip-kick that laid his attacker out back-first, rising into an uppercut that hit the knife-wielder's wrist hard. The impact of his plated knuckles against the nerves in the man's wrist forced his fingers to go limp for a moment, the knife clattering to the ground a moment later.

The thug's face was palmed at the same time Batman put his leg behind his opponent's, then hip-threw him skull-first into the concrete floor. A downward punch to the face finished him off. Mister machete was scrambling to his feet by then, but an axe-kick to the shoulder put him back on all fours and a low roundhouse to the temple planted him face-first on the ground. Rapid footsteps from the same entrance reached his ears moments before five more bodies entered the breach, toting various melee weapons.

Baring his teeth, Batman let out a blood-chilling roar and leapt into the fray.

…

The moment the first shot went off, there was a flurry of movement all across the base. Rapid comm. exchanges in Malay permeated the rooms Diana and Cass had been overlooking, and as a few of the more heavily armed guards began waving their unwilling staff into motion, the women exchanged a nod. A split-second later, doors came off their hinges as Wonder Woman rammed through them shoulder-first, sending one of the metal panels crashing into a pair of guards. Three gunmen immediately sighted her blurry form, hesitating to shoot when she got one of them around the throat, then threw him into one of the other two.

The third gunman opened up with everything he had, her arms turning into gold-rimmed blurs as she shattered every incoming round with her Bracelets of Submission. One of the guards pinned under the door scrambled out and began screaming threats in Malay as he angled his weapon toward the civilians. Snarling, Diana was about to fly across the room and cave in his face when Black Bat did it for her with a flying roundhouse. His suddenly limp form sent a cluster of rounds ricocheting off the ceiling as he collapsed unconscious, sending the guards at the opposite end of the room scrambling for cover.

The enclosure appeared to be something of an assembly line, with two floors, a high-vaulted ceiling, and conveyor belts with active machinery on the lower floor. At present, the pair was dealing with the security on the second floor overlooking the line and a dozen frightened workers who looked like they hadn't slept in days and washed even longer. Diana instantly closed the distance to the thug currently shooting at her, one hand crushing his gun while the other drove a palm into his chest, sending him flying across the room with the breath knocked out of him.

She threw the rifle into the head of the other pinned guard, knocking him out, then lunged in a side-kick that catapulted another one into a far wall. From the assembly line below, a dozen men and women bearing crowbars, axes, and other improvised weapons stormed up the stairs. The first of them took a swing at Diana's neck with an axe only to find himself laid out with a single punch to the sternum. The next two attacked from opposite angles with machetes, but for all their tactics and alternative placement of blows, they were practically standing still for how fast Diana was.

They hit the deck a few seconds later.

Black Bat leapt over the railing to the first floor, rolling into a rising cross that hit the diaphragm of another rushing guard and sent him wheezing to his knees. A hook-kick sent a screaming woman reeling and clutching her head, and a gauntlet deflect of an incoming knife opened up a man to a backfist to the nose. Cass fell into a crouch when he swung wildly at her head, using her lower position to drive a capoeira kick into the side of his knee. As he screamed his way into a kneeling position, she rose to her feet and pounded the side of his face with a half-dozen chain punches in the space of two seconds.

She snapped her head away from a crowbar swing, a high crescent kick sending the weapon clattering to the ground. In the same motion, she twirled her body into a spinning elbow that worked her opponent's jaw around, then finished with a hook to the temple with her other arm, completing the 360 degree turn and sending her cape flapping in her wake. Up top, Diana was encircled with thugs who kept trying to ambush her, yet were thrown out of that circle with each super-strong counterattack. She ducked under another machete slash, hands bracing against the ground as she pushed herself into a sideways slide and ground-kicked her attacker in the gut.

The impact sent him tumbling backward toward another rushing enemy that leapt over his body and repeatedly swung a knife at Diana. She let a long thrust coast past her and grabbed her attacker's wrist to pull her off the ground and swing her body in circles. The human windmill decked three guards in one rotation, and a release of the unfortunate woman's arm at the right moment sent her body flying into another three. Wonder Woman slammed two of their heads into the far wall before directing a backfist at the third that instantly KOed him. One of the thugs she'd thrown out of the circle spotted a fallen rifle and picked it up, but instead of aiming it at her, he angled the weapon toward Cass and the workers downstairs.

Snapping up one arm to deflect an incoming axe, she used her other hand to grab the crown of her circlet, yanking it off her head and throwing it with pinpoint precision. The metal band bounced off his head with a painful-sounding _smack_ , verified when he shrieked and stumbled sideways, clutching his head. Diana threw the current interloper back with a palm to the chest, then rushed toward the gunman and snatched her falling tiara mid-step. She fell into a slide as she brought the circlet up around the barrel of his gun when he pulled the trigger, the loop allowing her to control his direction of fire and send it harmlessly into the ground.

At the end of her slide, she snapped her legs upward and sent her body into a fluid twist-flip over his haphazard firing arc, landing feet-first on his other side in a crouching elbow drop that snapped the rifle in two and sent the gunman flying face-first into the ground. The hand bearing her circlet came up and smoothly replaced it on her head as she rose to full height. Sounds of a scuffle coming from downstairs drew her attention to Black Bat, who was engaging three assailants with all the trouble of taking candy from a baby.

Cass effortlessly dodged and weaved around their attacks, sending a few of their blows into each other by adapting to their all too predictable movements. She headbutted one particularly unfortunate man, then threw him into another and backpedaled from a shrieking woman who came at her with a broomstick. Cass dodged a thrust at her face and grabbed the end of the makeshift staff, elbowing its user while twirling her body and getting both hands on the stick. She ended up behind the woman, pulling the staff up into her neck and gradually cutting off her blood flow until she slumped to the ground.

The other two rose to their feet to reengage only for Black Bat to lunge toward them in a flying split-kick that ended with her on all fours and surrounded by immobile or groaning bodies.

Wonder Woman took one last look around and exchanged a look with a shrugging Cass before tapping her earpiece. "Batman, the sweat shop is all clear; no sign of anyone trying to flee. How are things on your end?"

…

As it happened, the server room was only one small piece of the immediate area, one door leading to a whole series of claustrophobic spaces where the Bats and their enemy fought for every inch amidst a flurry of blades, fists, and gunfire. Plus, a couple of the smarter ones had doubled back toward the room Jason suspected of being an armory. He and Batman intercepted them before they got to the door, tackling them to the ground and laying into them with their fists—and the broad side of a shield, in the Knight's case. Jason whirled around in time to block a half-dozen incoming rounds, Batman using the superior cover around the right side of the crate-strewn room to close the distance to the enemy's firing line.

In a side room, he could hear Robin exchanging sword-blows with two more machete-toting Decembrists with no trouble at all. Bruce leapt past one of the gunmen trying to move around Jason's shield and grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming him head-first into a wooden crate on the way down. He spun toward the enemy, a trio of batarangs flying through the air to imbed themselves in their guns and explode in a shower of sparks and molten metal. Dropping their useless firearms, they brandished knives and brass knuckles, moving in to flank Batman while TK ran to back up Robin.

Mid-block, Batman activated his comm. to answer Wonder Woman. "Still more flooding the area, like they're trying to stall us!"

"Fox," came Robin's clipped voice, "any movement indicating an escape route?"

Lucius' voice came back a moment later. "That's a negative. Either nobody's trying to run yet, or they're deep enough to avoid even our deep-scanning capabilities."

"So they still think they can win," Jason taunted darkly as the _clang_ of a shield bash came from the side room. "Hilarious."

Batman dodged another knife-thrust, redirecting the weapon into one of the others' downward swipes before twisting his wrist and directing his own knife down into his thigh. The man collapsed in pain as Batman sent a shin-kick into the head of the other knife-fighter, a blow that was blocked with an elbow-tuck. He lashed out with the knife as the other one standing lunged with a flurry of brass-plated jabs. Bruce brought both arms up to protect his face, his side-by-side gauntlets serving as a shield all their own until he felt a pause in the onslaught and snapped his left fist out in a jab that sent bloody spittle flying from the knife-fighter's face.

A hip-driven hook sent him stumbling off, Batman back-stepping when the other threw a haymaker at his face. He grabbed the passing wrist and used his lack of balance to yank him backward off his feet, planning him skull-first on the floor. Then he introduced the thug to his own knuckle plates. A feral scream from behind snapped his attention to a gray-armored form grappling with a stocky, thick-set guard. TK had been tackled out of the side room, steadily backpedaling with his legs braced behind him to keep him on his feet. His shield came down edge-first on his opponent's back, prompting a scream but little else as the thug picked him up by the hips and body-slammed him into the ground.

An ear-splitting _bang_ from the side drew off Batman's attention as he spotted another entrance to the side room and a gunman toting a pistol just inside. He had little doubt of who the bastard was aiming at and lunged to disarm him. A flying kick broke his jaw and laid him out before he could get off another salvo at Robin, who had another guard by the throat, the flat of his blade cutting off the oxygen supply to his head. The pinned guard's eyes rolled back up into his head a moment later, prompting Batman to run back into the main room to check on Jason.

The Knight had managed to roll out from under his opponent, trying to bring his shield to bear but only managing to stop an incoming punch before the shield was shunted aside. The thug's shoulder was planted in his chest then, yet another charge carrying him across the room to pin him back-first against one of the crates. Batman moved in to help when TK's shield clattered to the ground, but stopped in his tracks when Jason palmed an incoming fist and roared into his opponent's face before bringing his head in hard. Promethium met bone a split-second later in a sickening crack, and the metal was not the bit that gave.

The thick-set man stumbled back, grasping his face with one hand while the other tried to fend the Knight off with a jab. He caught the blow with ease, using both hands to twist hard, breaking his wrist. A shin-kick to the side of the knee brought his head to hip level. A two-handed grip of his head and a knee to the face finished the job. Jason heaved a bit, taking a moment to catch his breath and give Bruce a reassuring nod before reaching down to retrieve and collapse his shield.

The Batman put a hand to his earpiece. "We're all clear. Any signs of the leader?"

"Nothing on our end," Black Bat replied.

"Still nothing on satellite," Lucius said.

Bruce frowned, glancing around at the numerous bloodied and unconscious bodies strewn about. "Gather up every suspect you can find; use the new restraints I gave you. We'll go through them with the Lasso one by one if we have to."

"Will do," Wonder Woman said. "Meet somewhere central?"

"Server room," Batman agreed. "See you soon."

…

All told, it took about fifteen minutes to gather everyone in the server room, upwards of thirty-eight in total, not including those not there by choice. They numbered in the dozens, sequestered in a scared huddle behind Wonder Woman and an imposingly posing Tomorrow Knight—shield, sword and everything.

Batman moved back toward them, lowering his voice and nodding to Robin. "I need you to escort this group up top and notify the authorities to pick them up." He turned to Cass. "Black Bat, you'll need to take it from there once they're in police custody, but that's a problem for tomorrow."

She nodded and cast a long, faceless look over the crowd of restrained bruisers as Robin spouted off his instructions in Malay and waved them toward the exit. Once they were out of sight, Jason retracted his sword and shield, relaxing a bit.

Wonder Woman leaned in toward Batman. "We should begin the interrogation before one of them tries something stupid."

He nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

Diana cast a glance over the crowd, searching each face for…something. Frowning, she turned to Cass. "Black, you can read these people even better than I can. Who looks most like they'd know something?"

She took a moment or two to think, then angled one gloved finger at a female figure at the far end with a complex tattoo across her cheek. Diana nodded and unhooked the Lasso of Truth from her belt, snapping it around the woman's shoulders.

"Who's in charge here?" she asked.

The woman sneered at her, replying in an obscure dialect of Hungarian. {You can't understand a word I'm saying, and even if you could, I couldn't tell you.}

Diana's eyes narrowed for a moment before she took a threatening step toward her, replying back in flawless Hungarian. {I can, and someone in this room will. Who _would_ know?}

She visibly struggled for a moment or two before pointing to the thick-set man Jason had busted up.

Diana smiled venomously. "Thank you."

As she moved toward the man in question, something caught TK's attention, causing him to squint at something he saw in one of the doorways.

"Knight," Cass said, an uneasy, warning tone in her voice. "What's—"

"Hey!" he shouted, running toward a nearby room. "Stop!"

Confused, Diana exchanged a look with Bruce even as Black Bat followed closely behind him. Diana's instincts were going full-tilt in alarm, seeming without cause, as she stepped just far enough to the side to see what had drawn Jason off: a man in the same garb as the Decembrists, with a hood pulled down over his features. She didn't quite understand Cass's alarm until the man stopped short, whirling to face Jason right as he got his hands on his collar.

"No, get back!" Black Bat shouted as she lunged for the pair.

Diana's and Bruce leapt into action, a moment passing before she caught the man smirking under his hood a split-second before he brought his left hand up and snapped his fingers. Her eyes widened when Cass reached them as the very air seemed to warp around the three, as if space itself was imploding. A shock of panic surged through Wonder Woman as she put every scrap of strength into her legs, rocketing toward the trio that was rapidly becoming harder to see and distinguish from each other. Her hand closed around empty air a moment later as a cloud of dust fell all around them, her heart stopping with her body as she slowly turned to a gaping Batman.

"No—they can't—" Her voice shook as her eyes blurred and Bruce quickly made his way to her. "Tell me they're not—"

His arms went around her shaking body as he remained notably silent.

"Bruce," she whispered, "what just—"

"I don't know," he said, voice as ragged as hers, "but we don't know all the facts, just what it looked like. I'll have Robin bring as much analysis equipment as he can carry, and we'll figure this out."

She nodded and sniffed, wiping off her face and stepping back into the server room to cast a furious glare over the crowd of shackled criminals. Diana knelt in front of the tattooed woman, who suddenly had a frightened look in her eyes at the fierce glint in Diana's as she spoke in a low, threatening tone.

"If you people have harmed my children…" she gripped the woman's shoulder tightly enough to make her flinch, "Tartarus _itself_ will not accept you when I'm finished."

…

In the moments before the implosion, Jason had felt his instincts flare up in alarm when he glimpsed the fleeing Decembrist. At first, he'd thought it was merely the alertness that came from engaging an enemy, but he'd been experiencing that all day.

This was different.

It wasn't until he turned around and Jason grabbed his collar that he understood. When he looked down into the shadows of that hood and saw the man's eyes looking back at him, he'd felt the unmistakable chill of familiarity and fear grip his body. For the two seconds before he snapped his fingers, that feeling surged within him stronger and stronger, until another memory filled his vision.

He just _knew_ those golden eyes.

And then he blinked, and the bunker was gone, replaced by little else but empty air and a feeling of fierce vertigo. It took him a split-second to realize he was in freefall, and another second to register the pair of gauntleted arms that were wrapped around his body from behind.

"Hold onto me!"

He immediately whirled around to get a tight grip on Black Bat's midsection, her arms relinquishing their hold on him to reach for her cape. The black fabric flared outward at the touch of the electric current in her fingertips, the sudden air resistance slowing their descent significantly. It wasn't fast enough to blunt their impact completely, though, and Cass apparently knew that, because before Jason could even think about stopping her, she'd shifted so that she'd be the one hitting the ground first. A moment later, they impacted the side of a massive sand dune hard enough to knock the wind out of Jason, and he had his sister's unfortunate body as cushion.

Panic seized him as he quickly pushed himself off her immobile form and pulled up the holoprojector in his gauntlet to check her vitals. A sigh of relief left him as he verified her heart was still going strong and her chest was rising and falling evenly.

 _Just unconscious,_ he thought.

With that matter settled for now, he pulled Cass's arms to sling her over his shoulder as he got a good look at their new surroundings. The heat-dissipating design of his armor dampened the effects of the burning sun, but one look at the sand-strewn environment told him they were in a desert of some sort. Squinting a bit, he spotted a small patch of half-demolished buildings not too far, obviously abandoned, and stumbled his way down the dune toward it. Finding one that wasn't in too bad shape, he lowered Cass's unconscious form into the shade and folded her arms over her chest.

Exhaling hard, he tapped his gauntlet again and frowned when his armor's GPS failed to resolve into something other than static. He tried his earpiece only to be rewarded with the same, eyes narrowing in suspicion. The WayneTech communication systems built into his armor were superior even to those in Batman's, capable of bouncing signals off even poorly equipped satellites to get a message through. If he couldn't reach his parents, then it wasn't an equipment failure; they were being actively jammed. Reaching into Cass's belt, he retrieved her emergency Justice League beacon, a last resort device that would instantly send a Zeta beam down to her current location and teleport her and anything else in physical contact to the Watchtower.

Jason kept one hand on her arm while he activated it. His heart sank when the same lack of response ensued, despite all indications that the device was working properly. Cursing under his breath, he deactivated the beacon and slotted it into his belt, leaning back against a wall as he mentally ran through his options. The sound of approaching footsteps from outside snapped him out of his thoughts. Casting Cass's body a brief glance, he stood up and cautiously peeked out the doorway. Immediately, his eyes widened as he recognized the Decembrist from before, his hood pulled back to reveal a head of platinum blond hair and those metallic golden eyes that set his teeth on edge.

He glanced at Cass once more before stepping out into the open, fists clenched at his sides. The Decembrist spotted him immediately, his face a study in neutral observation with young features and skin tone that verified just how foreign he was to Singapore. He blinked once, tilting his head a bit, then spoke with a voice untainted by accent or broken speech.

"From your…imposing presence, I always imagined you'd be taller in person."

The Knight's eyes narrowed, voice lowered dangerously. "Who are you?"

"Me?" His head tilted the other way. "I've had a few names over the years. A few faces, too. At present, I go by Tieri Deux to those I do business with."

TK nearly flinched as "Tieri" smiled just slightly, in a way that could be welcoming if not for the constant aura of threat he exuded.

"As for who I am…well…" His face, form, and voice shifted as he morphed mid-sentence into a perfect mock-up of the Batman. "I am everyone…" he shifted again, this time into Wonder Woman, "and no one. I am…"

Jason's eyes widened in realization and no small amount of terror when he recognized this next transformation, this next image, and realized what his instincts had been trying to tell him about this man's eyes.

"…whoever I need to be," he finished in the voice and smiling form of Cheetah.

Jason stared at him as he shifted back into his initial form. "It was you," he said in a horrified whisper. "You were the one in my house that night. _You_ killed them."

He continued smiling, though Jason couldn't help noticing a hint of regret to it. "Yeah."

Jason blinked slowly. "Why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

Tieri clasped his hands behind his back, the two slowly pacing around each other in a circle. "I'm here for the same reason I came for you in that cave. As for how, well…that aligns a bit more with your earlier question of my identity." He stopped suddenly. "Among all the names I've borne over the years, the first is the only one that's stuck with me. Seeing as you have only minutes left on this Earth, you may address me…as Janus."

Jason's eyebrows knitted as he fixed Janus with a narrow-eyed gaze. "Janus…" his eyes widened, "oh gods."

His smile widened a touch. "Precisely."

Janus. Olympian god of time and gateways. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense: how he was there, how they'd gone from a bunker in Singapore to a desert in the middle of nowhere in a literal snap. And how he'd framed Cheetah for the murder of Jason's parents in the future; Olympians were notorious shapeshifters.

"You posed as Cheetah to avoid reprisal," Jason said.

"Right on, two for two."

His fists clenched. "I've never heard of you before now. You weren't involved in the Olympus War, or anything that followed for that matter. So why murder my parents?"

That same flicker of regret shone in Janus' features just long enough to notice. "They were, unfortunately, collateral damage."

Jason's eyes widened. " _What_?"

Janus fixed him with a piercing look. "I was only ever after _you_ , Jason Wayne. Your parents merely had the misfortune of getting in my way." He tipped his head up. "Seeing the effects of that, this little sojourn into the past, goaded me to change my strategy." He waved at their desolate surroundings. "Thus, here we are, separated from civilization and anyone else who would attempt to interfere."

His jaw clenched. "Don't think that absolves you from what you did."

Janus smiled. "I don't expect your forgiveness, nor do I need it. I'm simply here to take back what is rightfully mine." He took a threatening step toward Jason, stopping short when the Knight pulled something off the back of his belt. "Please, don't make this any harder than it has to be. I defeated both your parents in a matter of seconds. Do you really think you stand a chance, powerless as you are?"

Jason scowled at his assessment briefly before smiling nastily. "Maybe not, but you're an idiot if you think I'm gonna let that stop me."

The Tomorrow Knight slapped the bulky device to his chest and hit something in its center, a rapid series of metallic clanks filling the otherwise still air of the desert as gunmetal gray metal steadily encased his body from the neck down. Segments and overlapping plates expanded into place, a metal collar bracing his neck with similar devices protecting all his joints. The rest of his body was enveloped in a metallic shell of armor that hummed with a faint alien whirr. The second skin adapted to expose his utility belt and leave his helmet exposed, since it was already unbreakable. On his arms and legs were gauntlets and greaves of bulky armor, and on his chest was a large bat-symbol with a faint blue glow backlighting it.

Janus' golden eyes widened at the sight, eyebrows rocketing skyward.

Jason smiled malevolently. "Like it? Prototype Kryptonian power armor, a little gift for the Batman that I snagged on my last visit to Superman's HQ." He scooted one leg back through the sand and fell into a guard stance. "You want me dead, I'm gonna make you work for it."

Janus sighed faintly and shrugged. "If that's the way you want it."

He reached up to his shoulders and tore off his ragged uniform in one motion, revealing a metallic skin rapidly growing over his body from an hourglass-shaped buckle on his belt. In seconds, he was wrapped neck to toe in a skintight layer of gold-and-blue metal, only his face and hair exposed when it was done. Janus frowned and snapped his arms out to the sides, his sleeves seeming to melt but losing none of their form. Instead, the extra, liquid-like material dropped into his hands and rapidly formed a pair of gladius-like weapons as he slowly advanced on Jason.

"I want you to know," he said, "I take no pleasure in this."

Jason snarled as he brandished sword and shield. "I don't care."

And with that, he leapt at Janus sword-first, his flying lunge deflected and withdrawn from. He bashed the edge of his shield against one of Janus' blades, sending him back another step as the Kryptonian suit amplified his strength. He spun and slashed at Janus' neck, the blow ducked and countered with a rising thrust that was shunted downward with a slap of the shield. Jason then took a page out of Philippus' book and slammed the shield forward into Janus' face, sending him rolling back through the sand.

Janus sent his blades forward in alternating stabs as he rose to his feet, impacting the shield at different angles as Jason was forced to shift it here and there to adapt. While ducking behind his shield, he lunged forward with the blade, his stab just missing skewering Janus in the eye when he twirled his body out of the way. Mid-spin, Janus slashed at Jason's back, only a shift of the shield just managing to deflect the sword away from his spine. Countering, he spun clockwise in a sword-swing that met empty air, his eyes narrowing at the space Janus had occupied, just managing to make out a faint aberration in the air.

Eyes widening in realization, he spun around shield-first to meet a falling double-stab from Janus, the god having teleported above him while out of sight. This time, he saw it happen when Janus teleported again before Jason could bring his sword to bear. A faint _whir_ from the left sent his guard in that direction, another stroke deflected by his shield. Another teleport, another surprise attack, this time from the right. Jason swung in that direction, hoping to get lucky and catch his opponent off-guard with a preemptive strike. Instead, his blade skated just over Janus' nose and he took a shin-kick to the gut.

Reeling, he quickly realigned his stance and braced his sword against the side of the shield. Seeing this, Janus frowned and took a step back, his swords melting into nondescript rods that he then merged end-to-end, transforming them into a halberd that he made a show of twirling about once formed. Jason rolled his eyes and lunged at him, quickly put on the defensive when those twirls proved not merely for show and were used to lay an endless cascade of attacks on his shield, quickly tiring his arm even with the armor taking most of the shock. Jason was quickly reminded of Philippus, recalling their duel with crystal clarity and backpedaling out of the reach of that halberd to save his strength.

When Janus came in with another falling diagonal strike, the Knight twirled his body to add extra power and shunted the blow in the opposite direction with his shield, following that up with a rising cut to the chest. Janus redirected the strike with the blunt end of the halberd, its end melting and re-forming to hook around Jason's blade. He tried to use that point of contact to wrench the weapon from Jason's grip, finding his efforts waylaid when Jason pulled back and used their connection to drop-kick him in the chest. The impact sent him flying back through a worn-down stone column, leaving him prone for just a moment.

Jason recovered quicker than him, collapsing his sword and holstering it to free his right hand for three explosive batarangs he hurled as soon as they were primed. All three found their mark, sending plumes of smoke and pained cries from Janus' form. Activating his lenses, Jason leapt into the smoke and turned his body sideways when Janus stabbed at him with his reconfigured weapon, a long blade that flew past him. Deploying the arm-blades on his right gauntlet, TK trapped the blade in place long enough to bring his shield down on it near the base, shearing the metal.

He caught the falling blade in his armored hand before it hit the ground, bashing Janus in the face to stun him, then plunging the broken weapon through the god's chest. That the material of his weapon and armor were the same allowed him to break through using the considerable strength provided by his pilfered power armor. As the residual smoke cleared, Jason was treated to the sight of a sputtering Janus staring wide-eyed at the blade buried in his chest, his fingers limply grasping at its shaft.

Jason pushed it in a bit further, twisting it viciously as he snarled at his enemy. "That was for my parents, you son of a bitch."

With that, he slammed the edge of his shield into Janus' head and left him to fall back-first against the burning sands, limp and staring at the sky with dead eyes as his golden blood soaked the ground. Breathing heavily, Jason felt his shoulders shaking with a mix of adrenaline and unresolved grief, his vengeance and mission finally—and unexpectedly—finished. Gulping hard, he turned away, collapsing his shield as he strode back toward the building where Cass was.

A sharp cough stopped him in his tracks.

Slowly, the Knight turned to see Janus, back on his feet, casually pulling the ichor-splattered blade out of his chest and allowing it to melt back into his armor. Without a word, he lunged at Janus only to feel a chill of sheer terror run down his spine as mid-step, Janus met his eyes with a cold look.

Then vanished.

Not as if he'd teleported again. His form had blurred for just a moment, then simply ceased to exist. Jason discovered where he'd gone a moment later when a barely-visible golden blur slammed into him from the side. He flew twenty feet through a brick wall, rolling to a stop and coughing hard. That one shot had knocked the wind out of him despite his power armor, and as he rose to his feet, he blinked, and Janus was there. He heard more than felt the impact on his chest as he was pummeled through another three walls, feeling a massive bruise cover his entire back.

When he finally stopped moving, Jason roughly rolled to his feet and raised his shield defensively, keeping a sharp eye out for any more movement. A shadow in his peripheral vision prompted a batarang throw in its direction, Janus' still form shimmering with another blur, then vanishing as soon as the weapon hit, as if it was merely a mirage. An instant later, Janus was up in his face. Jason bashed his shield at his face, the blow slapped aside as if no more than the buzzing of a fly. Punches and shield strikes came in one after the other, the god of time stone-faced and impassive as he easily blocked or avoided them altogether.

A shield-punch combo was capped off with a high roundhouse, a blow Janus caught and used to swing him around, throwing him toward another building. Expecting it, Jason twirled his body midair and landed feet-first on the wall, caving it in and using it to spring into a leap at his enemy. Janus' body blurred again, a zig-zag pattern of gold the only warning before his helmet took the full impact of a flying knee from the side and flew off into the distance. Jason barrel-rolled when he hit the ground, shakily pushing himself upright. His back was stomped on and he was sent face-first into the ground again.

He blindly swung his left arm up and behind him, trying to smack Janus off, but found the shield ripped from his grip and his shoulders grabbed as he was hoisted off the ground. Janus threw him once more, intercepting him midair and repeatedly pummeling his armored form like an airborne pinball. The damage was steadily mounting, both to the armor and its wearer, and Jason was steadily realizing how Janus had murdered his parents so easily. At this speed, even his mother would be hard-pressed to keep his pace, and she couldn't withstand being skewered through the heart quite like Janus.

When he finally let Jason hit the ground, it was to come down with a double fisted smash that sent sand flying in every direction when Jason managed to roll away. Reduced to acting on the defensive, Jason deployed his arm-blades and used every scrap of reflex he had to block the incoming blows from Janus' re-formed weapons, this time in the form of axes. He used the same teleporting trick to get behind Jason and dig one of the blades into his shoulder, not piercing skin but shredding the Kryptonian metal with ease. That contact was used to pull Jason backward off-balance, putting his chest within easy reach of the other axe.

The Knight just managed to bring his other armguard into place to deflect the blow, but the force of it still sent him back-first into the ground. Janus' weapons melted into one horrifically large, serrated sword that stabbed down toward his spine, piercing the ground instead as Jason barrel-rolled away. While still down there, Jason pulled a batarang and slashed at Janus' ankles, meeting only disturbed sand as the god twist-flipped over him and sliced a jagged line through the back of his power armor. TK dove away, spinning to face him just as the flamberge melted back into his armor and the air around his hands warped with the same teleportation magic.

This time, however, that space glowed with increasing intensity until a lance of electricity came from his right hand and caught the Knight across the shoulder. The impact charred sections of the gray metal and sent him stumbling back a step. He moved with it, kneeling as the next lightning strike came at him, this time meeting his gauntlets instead. Janus laid it on, advancing with slow, confident steps, the blank look never slipping from his face. Jason cursed himself as he steadily slid back through the sands. This whole time, Janus had been holding back, as if to taunt him with the prospect of victory before finishing him off.

But then, that seemed off when compared to his personality so far.

So, when the onslaught of electricity ceased for a few moments and Jason felt hearing return to his ringing ears, he took a heavy breath and asked.

"Why hold back? Why let me win?"

Janus' golden eyes darkened with something unreadable, a faint glow stirring in their depths as his steps halted. "There is little worse than perishing in the throes of despair. I wanted you to feel as if your death had meaning."

With that, Jason looked down, eyes widening at the glow of his bracers. He couldn't match Janus blow-for-blow, but if he got him to let his guard down…

"Why me?" Jason asked. "What do you want from me?"

As Janus showed him that same faint smile and opened his mouth, the Knight yelled in fury and slammed his gauntlets together, the full force of the lightning returning to its owner. Janus' eyes widened in shock, and for the briefest of moments, Jason thought he'd won. Then the space before the god shimmered with another warp, and the azure arcs vanished into its depths…

Before reemerging from another portal that sent it all slamming into Jason's chest. His vision went white for a few seconds, his entire body numb. When it began to clear, he was rapidly aware of several things. First, that he was on his knees, with his arms hanging at his sides. Second, that Janus was stalking toward him with unhurried steps. And third, that the massive surge of electricity had struck his armor directly in its power source and shorted it out, leaving him completely immobile except for his head and neck (now devoid of his cowl since the collar containing it had shorted out as well). Jason struggled as much as he could, but the Kryptonian metal wouldn't budge without power.

He was done, and Janus knew it.

"To answer your question, Jason," said Janus as he drew close, "your parents stole something from me when you were born. Gave it to you."

Jason blinked, eyebrows knitted in confusion as he heaved panicked breaths. " _What_? What did they take? Tell me, and I will _give_ _it_ to you!"

Janus smiled once more, that same hint of regret in his eyes. "Were it so easy, we would not be here." The armor of his sleeve melted once more to form a longsword that he raised with both hands. "Don't struggle, boy. I promise this won't hurt a bit."

"I cannot guarantee the same."

Jason's eyes widened in alarm at the new voice a split-second before tandem explosions slammed Janus in the back. A furious cry split the air as Black Bat wrapped her legs around Janus' neck and swung her body backward to hurl him through the air.

"No!" Jason screamed, heart hammering. "Cass, no!"

Heedless of his warning, Cass charged at Janus, dodging his first two sword-swipes and countering with a hook-kick to the face. He barely flinched at that, or at her follow-up trip-kick that failed utterly. He tried to stomp her leg, but she rolled away just in time, having predicted the move. But Jason knew what she didn't: that her ability to read Janus' body language would only help as long as he remained at normal speed. She exploited a weakness in Janus' attack pattern to plant another explosive batarang in his chest, lunging forth with a flying kick that sent him skidding back through the sand.

Finally, Janus sighed, showing the first hint of irritation, and said, "Enough."

He flicked his left hand up, and for just a second, Jason stared in confusion at what he was seeing: Cass, practically frozen mid-step while Janus calmly regarded her with a tilted head. The air around her was warped and shimmering, as if the very light around her was being bent inward toward opposing points above and below. Time itself bent to Janus' will, apparently not only for the purposes of traveling through it. Janus wasn't just fast; he could actively slow the passage of time for those around him. Thus, it was with little effort that he moved around to her blind spot and slammed his empty fist into her lower ribs.

He let her time resume at a normal pace then, and she flew toward Jason, rolling uncontrolled to a stop not six feet in front of him. She coughed hard, wheezing and clutching her no-doubt broken ribs as she scrambled to stand. Another warp instantly brought Janus there, standing over her imposingly. He knelt on her left arm, pinning it in place while his left hand pressed against her chest and pushed her against the ground. His right came up and ripped off her mask with ease, exposing her bruised face and eyes—frightened eyes.

That was when Jason knew, when he realized what Janus intended, and _really_ started to panic.

"No," he gasped. "Not her, _please_ , not her!"

Heedless of Jason's desperation, Janus looked down on her with unyielding eyes, his hand pressing down harder. "Out of respect for your abilities, Cassandra Cain, I will remain with you until the end."

Cass gasped louder, slamming her free arm against his chest to no effect as he steadily crushed her chest.

Janus' face softened just the slightest bit, as if a mockery of compassion. "After all…no one should die alone."

Jason screamed and raged against his metal prison as tears streamed down his face. "I will kill you, you son of a bitch! _Do you hear me_?!" His eyes flickered from his nemesis to his sister. "C-Cass…"

She punched Janus once more as the last bits of breath were pushed from her lungs, her head lolling to the side and eyes meeting Jason's for the briefest of moments before they rolled back for lack of oxygen.

Jason's own eyes were wide as could be, his whole body numb in disbelief as Janus continued his gradual crushing motion, gaze fixed on Cass's face. Jason's eyes slid from her to Janus, that numbness broken by the faintest flicker of heat deep in his heart.

He remembered her scars, her pain, her good-for-nothing blood who abused and abandoned her when she no longer served their purpose. Remembered the way she smiled when he scraped his knees the first time he tried to fly. The way she hugged him as he broke at his parents' funeral. The strength she showed every day, to those she plagued and those she saved.

The emptiness that threatened to engulf him at the Cass-sized _hole_ in his world.

He could feel something inside him _shatter_ as the heat within spread throughout, warming his bones, filling his muscles, boiling his blood, igniting his very soul. His body shook violently as that heat, that _fire_ , built in his chest, expanding to fill every gap and weakness, meeting every bruise and cut.

And with a feral, ear-splitting roar borne of love and desperation, the Tomorrow Knight's entire body snapped—arms backward, legs outward, chest forward; and _shattered_ the metal shell imprisoning him.

Time itself slowed to a crawl, but not just for him, as the screeching chorus of shearing metal and his own scream reached Janus' ears. The time god's golden eyes widened just so, slowly shifting from Cass's immobile form to meet Jason's furious gaze as dust and shrapnel exploded from his body. So focused was the Knight's attention that he failed to notice what Janus was seeing: shimmering silver runes of Titan and Olympian script hovering just off the surface of his body like holograms, tracing along his arms and legs and torso, up the sides of his neck.

And the furious, glowing white eyes of a boy with nothing to lose.

Janus' left hand flew up from Cass's chest in an attempt to summon lightning once more, but failed to rise halfway before he found an iron grip around his throat and his body flying through the air. The _crack_ of a sonic boom broke the serene calm of the sweltering desert air as Jason roared at the top of his lungs and laid into his face with his empty hand. Janus snarled as he actually _felt_ the blows, kneeing Jason in the lower ribs in an attempt to break his grip. The blow shunted him slightly to the side, but he held fast and retaliated by slamming Janus headfirst into the ground, dragging his face through the sand for half a mile before hurling him one-handed into the side of a mountain.

He slammed into Janus fists-first an instant later, putting a new crater into the mountain as he pounded the god with punches little more than indistinct blurs. Janus managed to catch one of his arms and tried to throw him away, but Jason used the momentum of the swing to turn it back on him and flew toward the ground to toss him point-blank into a cluster of rocks. Janus bounced once, twice, spinning through the air and correcting his flight path so he landed in a stable stance.

Once more, he held out his hand and warped time as Jason flew toward him full-tilt, right hand cocked back for another bone-shattering punch. He stopped barely a foot from his target, who was breathing audibly and chuckled as he stepped around to Jason's left.

"Impressive. Even watching you, I hadn't expected such power." His golden eyes narrowed. "But I am still a god, and you are not."

As his left hand gripped a newly-formed dagger, he heard the faintest growl of reply, at perfectly normal speed.

" _I don't care_."

And Jason's cocked fist turned to slam him in the face.

Janus tumbled through the air, ricocheting off the ground until he stopped himself midair, shaking himself off and flying upward when Jason took another swing at him. He summoned dual scythes and twirled his body in a cyclone of bladed strikes, only to meet volatile Promethium at every turn when Jason easily met each strike. He countered with a rising knee to the chest, then a double-fisted smash to the back that slammed him into the ground below. The Knight fell like a rock in a double knee-drop that forced all the wind from his lungs before a low kick to the ribs sent him rocketing toward a sand dune.

Janus teleported before he hit the dune, using his momentum for a passing slash at Jason's back, met once again with his bracers. This time, though, he used his arm-blades to trap one of the scythes and keep Janus within arm's reach. He caught the other scythe by the shaft and pulled them apart to head-butt Janus, coiling up to double-kick him in the chest and pulling the weapons from his grasp. Jason didn't even notice them melt into liquid form as they fell to the ground, opting instead to fly at his enemy only for him to teleport once more. More transformed weapons and teleporting strikes came at him from every angle, each failing as much as the last.

Until Janus teleported some distance off and summoned another glowing warp, this one fizzling with not only lightning, but some kind of focused light and—was that _antimatter_?

All three lanced toward the Tomorrow Knight like a tactical nuke, and all three met his gauntlets, their combined energy absorbed by the metal. Janus' eyes widened; apparently, he'd specifically increased his energy output to overload the metal—and failed spectacularly. He had no choice but to scramble to dodge when Jason sent it all right back at him, the resulting explosion creating a massive cloud of dust and sand that covered everything within a hundred-meter radius. Janus lunged through the cloud blade-first, finding only empty air when he struck where Jason had just been standing.

Then his eyes widened when the faintest puff of disturbed dust came from behind, and he whirled around to see the Knight glaring at him, teeth bared as his Nth-metal sword expanded to its full length.

Blade met blade in ear-splitting screeches of conflict, an upward swipe from Jason countered by a thrust barely ducked. Janus snapped his curved blade sideways, this one of different material than any of his weapons thus far, and turned his thrust into a slice that would've bisected Jason at the abdomen. The Knight rolled with the path of the sword, which he noticed was actually anchored to Janus' arm, the runed blade passing just over his head. Jason lunged forward, tackling Janus through the air and throwing him back into the sand.

He skidded backward as Jason flew in with cascading sword strikes, his blade becoming a whirl of silver as Janus matched him blow-for-blow with sporadic teleporting strikes. An upward shunt by Janus left Jason's midsection exposed, but he effortlessly corkscrewed over the god's counterattack and swiped his sword upward as his feet met the ground. Janus spun away, trying to reorient himself. TK never gave him the chance, relentlessly attacking with blade and fist and boot. His arm-blades came out to play when Janus grabbed his wrist and tried to use his wrist-mounted sword to take his head off. Janus head-butted him solidly and followed up with a thrust kick that knocked him through the air.

Mid-flight, Jason snapped his right arm precisely and threw his sword at Janus in a twirling spin that he just managed to deflect. That deflect sent the blade spiraling upward, which was where Jason flew to retrieve it as he hurled explosive batarangs at his opponent. Janus teleported out before they hit, a faint whisper of _something_ reaching Jason's mind before he heard a _whir_ in the air just to his right. Both bracers came up as he spun his body, blocking the scythe-like arm-blade from decapitating him. He curled one arm around Janus' attacking arm, using that point of contact as leverage to keep spinning and hurl his enemy back-first into the ground.

Then the Tomorrow Knight saw his enemy cough up spatters of gold ichor, and flipped his sword into an underhanded grip as he descended like a meteor of judgment.

Janus' eyes widened, glowing faintly before the air around him shimmered once more, and he blinked out of existence right as the Knight plunged his sword into the ground he'd just occupied. Heaving for breath, Jason ripped the sword free and turned this way and that, scanning the empty desert for any signs of his nemesis. As his breathing slowly stabilized—and no further attacks came—his one-tracked storm of fury faded away, and he looked down to blink uncomprehendingly at the runes now decorating his body. They too faded a few moments later, leaving him with numerous questions.

However, one quickly rose to the fore as he remembered what had just happened previously.

"Cass," he exhaled.

A split-second later, the air split with a sonic boom as he scanned the endless sands for that abandoned settlement. He found it easily, touching down just at the edge and sprinting toward his fallen sister, snatching up his helmet and shield on the way. His arms lifted her body like it was nothing, and he put his fingers to her neck to find a thready but consistent pulse. Gritting his teeth, Jason took off at top speed, using one hand to cradle her body while the other pulled out her League transmitter. The more he saw of their surroundings, the more he began to recognize where Janus had taken them, and when it hit him, he realized why their communications had been so completely jammed.

 _Bialya…he brought us to Bialya._

Logging that away for later, a rush of relief hit him when the beacon no longer registered static, and the pair was engulfed in a shower of brilliant Zeta energy.

…

"Where are they?"

As soon as Clark haltingly lifted his hands, Bruce gave him the _fiercest_ Bat-glare.

"Clark, _where are my children_?"

"Bruce," he said firmly, grabbing his friend by the shoulders, "they're okay."

That stopped the out-of-their-minds parents and their scowling son in their tracks, the looks on their faces demanding more.

Clark took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Cass is being treated for broken ribs and several hairline fractures on the others. She's weak, but stable."

Bruce and Di exchanged a look before the latter asked, "And Jason?"

The Kryptonian pursed his lips. "That's just it. Apart from the damage to his armor, he doesn't have a scratch on him."

Before they could ask for more, Clark waved them into an atrium just outside the Watchtower medical rooms. The moment they stepped inside, all three rushed to Jason, who was seated and stared at them with a startled expression as he was enveloped into the _biggest_ group hug. Even _Damian_ got in on it.

"You scared the hell out of us, kid," Bruce whispered.

Jason slowly hugged them back, no longer fighting the relieved tears he'd been keeping at bay since their escape from Bialya. "I'm sorry," he replied raggedly.

They stayed like that for a good minute before pulling away, though Diana kept a firm grip on his hand as she sat next to him. Bruce took the other side of the couch, pulling off his cowl to meet his son's eyes unfiltered.

"What happened to you two?" Damian asked, arms crossed.

Jason frowned and sighed hard. "It's a long, long story…but all of you need to know."

…

"Janus…" Diana shook her head. "In all my years, I've never heard of him outside Roman myth. If he is a god, he's not one the Amazons or Olympus recognize."

Jason scowled. "Trust me, I'd recognize their witchcraft anywhere. And he is 100% the one who kills you in the future. In fact, he's the version of Janus who's already done it."

Bruce frowned. "That makes a certain kind of sense, if he has control over time. What you said about his ability to warp relativity…worries me. If he can do that at any time, to anyone, how are we supposed to counter him?"

Jason's head shook slowly. "I don't know. But it didn't seem to work on _me_ once I got my powers back."

Damian cocked his head. "Yeah…how _did_ that happen?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. One second I was being forced to watch him squeeze the life out of Cass…and the next, I had my fist in his face."

"But you've never seen those runes before?" Diana asked.

His head shook again. "Never. I've…never moved that fast before, either. Felt that strong."

"It could be that in a moment of desperation, you tapped into a power you didn't even know you had." She frowned crookedly. "We'll have to keep an eye on that in the future."

Bruce knitted his eyebrows in thought, thinking hard for a moment. "One thing doesn't make sense. If he knew who you were all this time, and he's been watching you for months like he implied, why wait until now to make his move?"

Jason nodded to him. "Yeah, that's been bothering me too. Maybe since I'd had time to prepare, he wanted to know what he was dealing with."

"Then why not strike after you lost your powers?" Damian asked. "By your own admission, even without his time-warp, he would've had you dead to rights."

"I don't know. I just don't know." His eyes narrowed. "But…if I had to wager a guess, I think he might've been afraid of this…hidden power of mine. Considering he up and bolted as soon as I whipped it out, that's sounding more likely by the second."

"If it gave you immunity to his time-warping abilities," said Diana, "that would explain what made him so nervous. You matched him blow-for-blow, even countering his attacks with relative ease."

"If he fears that ability as much as you seem to think," Damian added, "he's going to be even more cautious about picking his spots." He nodded slowly. "That'll buy us time to learn more."

Jason sighed hard, leaning on his knees. "I can only hope."

Dr. Mid-Nite emerged from a nearby door in scrubs, disposing of his gloves in a nearby bin as the assembled Bat-family rose to meet him.

"What's the news?" Bruce asked tensely.

The masked doctor smiled and tipped his head slightly. "She'll be out of commission for a bit, but Cassandra should make a full recovery. Most of the damage is confined to her ribs, fortunately before any permanent damage could be done to her internal organs. We'll be keeping her in a medically-induced coma for now, to prevent any further damage by her movement, but I estimate she'll be back on her feet in a few weeks, plus a couple more months of physical therapy."

A relieved sigh passed through the whole group, but Jason frowned at the floor until something occurred to him.

"Hang on," he said, groping about his belt and pulling his shield and sword out. "Would these help?"

Mid-Nite blinked at him, the rest of his family staring at him like he was crazy—until Bruce realized what he meant.

"Nth-metal," Bruce said.

The doctor's eyes widened in understanding. "Of course." He gingerly took the collapsed weapons from Jason. "One of its lesser-known properties is speeding up the body's natural regeneration when kept in physical contact with a user." He nodded to Jason. "It'll take some tweaking, but this should speed up her recovery time considerably. Thank you."

Jason's lips pursed tightly. "Just help her, please."

He bowed his head slightly before returning to Cass's operating room.

The Waynes sat back down in a rough circle around the couches, a bundle of nervous energy, guarded relief, and exhaustion. Which was how Dick, Kory, Tim, Babs, and Steph found them when they each strode in in turn as word got around courtesy of Superman. And if Clark walked in on them snoozing in a chaotic cuddle-puddle of armor and khakis and found it profoundly adorable, he kept it to himself while draping blankets over them.

Well, maybe one picture for the family, but just the one. Bruce would skin him alive if he ever spread it around.

…

When Cass slowly opened her eyes, it was to a profound burning sensation in her throat, like it had been replaced by the desert she'd just escaped. Her eyes widened suddenly as her memories returned in a flood, pushing herself up in her bed in a panic until she realized she was clutching something in either hand. A moment's inspection verified them as Jason's collapsed shield and sword, and her confusion persisted until a familiar form came whistling into the room while reading a book.

Jason glanced up to meet her eyes, freezing for a moment before his face split in an ear-to-ear grin and he carelessly tossed the book aside. "Cass! You're awake!"

He pulled her into a gentle hug, careful to avoid disturbing her ribs, and she hesitantly hugged him back while being careful not to activate either weapon in her hands.

Jason tapped his ear, then said, "Guys, Cass is waking up."

Not a minute later, the room was swarmed with friendly faces, Barbara the first to reach her after shoving her way past the others thanks to her implant-fixed legs.

"Girl, you have no idea how worried I was."

Cass held her back, trying to speak before slapping a hand over her mouth when a hoarse croak was all that came out. She blushed down to her roots as Babs chuckled and carefully handed her a cup of ice chips. Cass downed half the cup in one go, the room filled with very little but her crunching until she swallowed the blessedly cool liquid.

Voice hoarse but manageable, she said, "What happened?"

Diana stepped forward to answer. "You went toe-to-toe with a god and lost. Not to worry, though." She smiled and grabbed Jason's shoulder. "You bought him the time he needed to find his strength."

Cassandra blinked up at them uncomprehendingly for a second before she read the underlying meaning. "Your powers have returned."

Jason nodded. "Bigger, badder, and better than ever." He winced. "I think. Haven't exactly tested them out just yet."

She blinked again in question, Damian filling in.

"What he means is that he's barely left your side to shower, shit, and sleep since you went into a coma."

Ignoring his crass remark, Cass frowned. "How long?"

Tim glanced at his watch. "Less than a week, actually. That Nth-metal healed you up nicely." He waved at the sword and shield. "Good thinking on Jason's part."

"The doctors want you to take it easy for a while longer," Bruce added, "but you should be out of here in a week or so. We just need to verify that the healing process is complete, and then you're coming home for a while."

She opened her mouth to assert her independence, but a firm finger cut that off instantly.

"No arguments. I want you where we can keep an eye on you, just in case."

Cass gulped and nodded, conceding to herself at least that home sounded _great_ right about now.

Dick stepped forward on her other side and put a hand on her arm. "You gave us a hell of a scare, but as usual, you proved you're tougher than you look."

She snorted a laugh and chuckled infectiously until a series of coughs cut that short. Placing a hand on her chest to steady herself, Cass leaned back and smiled. "Thank you."

"We'll let you rest," Diana said, smiling and rubbing the back of her hand.

One by one, they all filed out of the room.

Except Jason. _He_ hesitated, hand braced on the edge of the doorway. One look at her youngest brother and she could tell he was tense, feel the guilt radiating off him.

"It wasn't your fault."

He turned back to her, eyes dark and uncertain. "Yes, it was. He was only ever after me, and if I'd just…"

"Just what? Given up? Given in?" Cass's eyes narrowed. "I know you better than that."

Jason slowly approached her bed and sat next to her. She pulled her hand from the shield gauntlet and reached out for him. He held her tightly, but carefully, as if he were afraid to snap her fingers in half.

"If I'd been stronger," he said finally, haltingly, as he stared at her hand. Jason looked up to meet her eyes. "If I'd been stronger in the future, I never would've had to come back. And if I'd been stronger here, you never would've been in this bed."

She nodded slowly. "Maybe, but you're forgetting one important thing."

He blinked.

"Powers or no, you're only human. It may have come down to you in the end, but facing Janus was about more than just _your_ strength…wasn't it?"

It wasn't a question so much as a reminder.

"So," she said after a moment, "no, I think everything happened exactly how it had to to bring you here." She smirked. "You're a Wayne, after all, and Waynes are notoriously stubborn."

Jason chuckled at that, rubbing his thumb over her hand and inhaling sharply when something occurred to him. "Ah, that reminds me."

He released her to reach into a nearby messenger bag she recognized as his. A moment later, Jason pulled out a thick book with an author name that took her dyslexic mind a second to decipher.

Her little brother grinned. "I know it might seem a little on the nose, considering what put you in this bed, but I heard you liked the author and thought it might be useful to keep your mind busy."

She reached out and gingerly took the book from him, running a finger over the embossed letters making up the title: _The Lightning Thief_ , by Rick Riordan. A smile slowly spread across her face as she clutched it to her chest and met his sparkling blue eyes.

"Thank you, Jason."

Jason smiled back and pecked her on the forehead. "Happy New Year, sis."

Blinking, she glanced at a digital readout of the date and time to see that yes, it actually was January 1st. A small chuckle rumbled through her chest as Jason got up to leave. Halfway to the door, he stopped at her voice.

"Would you like to read it with me?"

Jason turned around and glanced at the book, then at her, and shrugged with a smile. "Sure. Reading about happier stories of Olympus could be…therapeutic, under the circumstances," he added with a wink.

Cass laughed hard at that, Jason joining her a moment later as he pulled his chair closer and began reading over her shoulder.

"Chapter one: 'I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher.'"

And like that, brother and sister welcomed the new year together.

* * *

AN: YEEEEEEEEEEEE! I've wanted to write this chapter _soooo_ badly since I started this story, for multiple reasons. Not the least of which Jason's absolute _eruption_ of power at the tail end of his fight with Janus. Speaking of…

I had the _hardest_ time coming up with an appropriate arch-villain for the Tomorrow Knight. All the good metas were taken, and all the aggressive gods were already sorted into Wonder Woman and Shazam's pool of enemies. And then the name "Janus" popped into my head and I searched DC top to bottom for any references to his Olympian iteration.

Nada.

So imagine my joy when I got to _create_ an enemy for Jason with the actual power of a god. Took me forever to flush out his powers, equipment, personality, and fighting style; but I must say I am _very_ happy with the results. That said, I would like some commentary about Janus in particular, since this is his introductory chapter. There's a _lot_ more to him than at first glance, and that'll be something discussed even further moving forward.

Now, for those of you who haven't seen my postscript on the last chapter, I have renamed this story to _The Tomorrow Knight: Origins_ for one reason: I'm splitting things up. This and the epilogue chapter I have yet to write will be the final entries of this story, but not to worry, because I have a whole _series_ planned for this character and other that I'll be introducing along the way. So hit up my author page and follow me, and you'll be alerted as soon as the next story is out under the title: _The Tomorrow Knight: Vagabonds_.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and how everyone got their moment to shine. School is stressful AF but thankfully winding down to the last couple assignments, so I'm hoping I'll be able to get the epilogue out soon.

Until then, peace.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

Nine Inch Nails - Just Like You Imagined: start-0:38—"no one should die alone"/flashes of memory, 0:38-0:55—explosion of power/Tomorrow Runes/eye to eye, 0:55-1:23—supersonic beatdown/cracking the mountain, 1:23-1:38—stopping time/monologue/"I don't care", 1:38-2:11—midair duel/knee drop/teleporting fight, 2:11-2:27—tri-energy blast/cloud of dust, 2:27-3:15—sword to sword/no more holding back/Janus' retreat, 3:15-end—runes fade/remembering Cass/emergency beacon


	16. Epilogue: Auld Enemies

Queen Hippolyta had a routine every morning. Such things were typical of the day-in, day-out holding pattern of the Amazons as a people. One might think that several millennia would have made such trifles boring, but she still enjoyed a calm walk of the grounds and the simple joy of watching the sun rise on her island. After preparing her wardrobe for the day and ensuring her hair was in dignified order as befitting a queen, she took half an hour for herself, walking the balconies and slopes of Themyscira. The warm glow as the sun split the horizon, the palette of colors that heralded the new day, the sweet odors drifting from the lotuses blooming in a nearby garden…

A life far removed from war and pain; this was all she ever wanted for her sisters.

And the daughter that hadn't spoken to her in months.

A frown of regret marred her otherwise flawless features as she sighed and turned away from the magnificent vista. Reality set in once more, and she made her way back to the palace to prepare for the day ahead. It wasn't until she began putting in her earrings that she noticed something off and strode into the throne room. The lack of armored bodies standing guard was the first confirmation of oddity. The second was the raven-haired boy lounging on her throne some twenty feet off. Hippolyta's head slowly tilted to one side, eyes wide like she couldn't believe what she was seeing: her grandson, in nothing more than jeans and a gray tee, lying with his legs draped over the throne's armrest and currently making his way through a bag-full of chocolate-coated blueberries.

She blinked twice, almost expecting him to vanish. He didn't. Instead, his eyes flickered to her gawking form and the hand not occupied with stuffing his face came up to wave at her excitedly.

"'Sup, _yia-yia_?" he called, turning to sweep his legs so he was sitting normally. "Sleep well?"

Jason got up and marched toward her, munching on the chocolate-covered fruit with a sparkle in his eyes.

Hippolyta took another moment to get over the shock of finding him there before replying. "I did, actually." Her arms crossed and eyebrows knitted. "When did you get here? I didn't hear your arrival."

He grinned. "Nor would you have."

She blinked in confusion.

Which was when he started floating on his back and casually tossing blueberries down the hatch.

Hippolyta sighed. "So they solved it after all."

"Nope," he replied flippantly.

"…what do you mean?"

Jason gulped down the dregs of his snack and dropped back to the ground. "Whatever Zeus and his cronies did to me wasn't solved the same way as Mom. We tried barely a week after I left, and it failed miserably."

"Then…how—"

He shrugged. "I have no idea, but I thought it'd be nice for me to come and tell you that I'm fine." His lips quirked upward a bit. "Mom doesn't know I'm here; she's still a bit salty, but she'll come around."

Hippolyta's lips pursed. "I can't say I'm not surprised _you_ did, given your attitude when last we spoke."

Jason cringed and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, uh…about that." He looked around uncomfortably. "I'm…really sorry for overreacting the way I did."

She frowned. "I'm the one who should apologize. You were right to accuse me, of everything. Truth be told, there _was_ a part of me that didn't want you here, especially after you bested my finest warrior unaided." A sigh. "But that was my old fear talking, and you are my _family_ , not Heracles." Her head bowed just slightly. "I had no right to expect any different from you, given what had happened."

Jason smiled ruefully. "Honestly, it may not have been your intention, but you did me a favor that day."

Her eyes widened.

He shrugged. "Up until then, I'd been using my powers as a crutch, relying on them to fight my battles and fix my mistakes instead of using my gray matter first. I was arrogant and entitled, and you saw it before anyone else. Honestly, I'm glad you talked to Olympus, for several reasons. Not the least of which how much experience I've gotten as a normal human—and how much _humility_ I've been forced to learn as a result." He snorted a laugh. "You did me the biggest favor I never asked for, and because of that, my sister and I are still alive. So…yeah, I forgive you." His smile widened. "No… _thank_ you."

Hippolyta blinked hard, a small smile slowly touching her lips. "I appreciate your perspective, but I was still in the wrong and would very much like to make it up to you."

Jason grinned, a touch of vindictive fire in his eyes. "I was _hoping_ you'd say that." He sauntered toward her. "See, the other reason I came back was to ask for a favor."

She frowned and arched an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Because you have _very_ good instincts. I would know; I inherited them." Another feral grin. "I need access to that astral chamber of yours for a bit. It's important."

Her eyes widened. "You want to…no, absolutely not."

"Why not?" he half-whined.

"You want to speak face-to-face with the gods after what they did? Would you really risk losing your powers all over again for the chance to rub it in their faces?"

He nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Besides, given how they returned…I'm not sure they could take them again if they wanted to."

Hippolyta's lips pursed tightly, her head shaking as she released a sigh. "As you wish, but the consequences will be on your head."

"Of course." He waved at the rooms behind the throne. "After you."

She frowned and led him into a small, cylindrical chamber with a circular hole in the roof letting in just enough sunlight to illuminate the artifact sitting on a pedestal in the center. It was a golden tablet with various Olympic runes carved into its surface, with jagged edges like it had been torn off a larger object.

Hippolyta waved at the tablet. "Simply place your hands on the sides of the tablet and read the central inscription in your head. It will help to focus your mind and project your astral presence into their dimension."

He nodded, approaching the artifact with a ginger touch.

"I assume Diana taught you how to read Olympian script?"

Another nod, and a predatory smile to boot. "Don't worry." He gave her a jaunty, two-fingered salute. "See you in a bit!"

…

In the safety of his own head, Jason was willing to admit to being the _tiniest_ bit worried about exactly what his grandmother had mentioned. Specifically, the possibility that Zeus and his ilk would take the opportunity to try suppressing his powers again. Because it _was_ suppression, not reclamation. And that, he had theorized, was why the ritual they tried didn't work. When Diana lost her powers, it was because they were _taken_. After all, her many gifts were just that: gifts from the gods. As such, it was their prerogative to force her to relinquish them. By contrast, Jason's abilities were innate and, as he'd discovered in Bialya, grafted onto his body.

The gods couldn't take his powers back because they were never theirs to give.

Besides, when those runes had activated, it hadn't felt like a rush of power entering his system like his mother had said. It was more like…a dam that had finally broken under the stress of a thousand cracks. Now he could only hope that if they tried putting it back together, he'd remember how to break it.

Such thoughts vacated his head as soon as his vision resolved into the ruined remains of what had no doubt been a proud and splendid city. The alabaster columns and gold décor of Olympus filled his vision, though the white stone was chipped and fragmented in places and the gold dulled by disuse and disrepair. The shambling environment certainly reflected the vibes exuded by the pantheon that sat before him around a large table filled with cakes of ambrosia and pitchers upon pitchers of nectar.

Something was muttered from one god to Zeus, and the king of Olympus rolled his electric eyes as he shouted mockingly in Jason's direction.

"Need something, _your majesty_? When last we spoke, you made it quite clear you would no longer serve." Zeus refused to even look in his direction, waving dismissively. "Begone, Hippolyta."

"I'm not my grandmother."

The hard statement immediately snapped every eye in Jason's direction. By their symbols alone, he recognized seven of the twenty-plus gods present. Apollo strumming his golden lyre. Hermes with his caduceus and winged helmet (a replacement, since Barry stole his old one as a gift for Jay Garrick during the war). Dionysus with his ever-flowing cup of wine. Hera and her multicolored robe, not unlike a peacock. Deimos and his delta-insignia. Poseidon by the three claw-like scars across his bare chest (made by his own trident courtesy of Aquaman). And of course, Zeus, whose white hair and lightning-rimmed eyes were enough indication.

Those eyes widened as soon as they saw Jason's malevolent smile.

"You," he growled in a voice like thunder, rising from his seat. "I would have thought you had learned your lesson by now."

Jason's astral form took a step toward him. "Oh, I did. More than you ever expected of me."

"Yet you return without an ounce of humility."

He cocked his head. "Humility? Before a pack of has-been gods who almost destroyed the world?" He grinned, all teeth. "Don't make me laugh."

Electricity flickered from Zeus' eyes. "And don't make me lose my temper. It was always short to begin with, but dealing with _your family_ has made it even shorter."

"Bitch please. If you had any real power anymore, you would've used it to smite my parents a _long_ time ago."

A startled murmur drifted through the crowd at the table, most of them looking on with mild annoyance, some with apathy, and a select few with a degree of amusement. One, a woman with brown hair and keen gray eyes, caught Jason's attention for a brief moment before he returned his focus to Zeus.

"But you don't," Jason added with a touch of snark. "None of your degenerate family does anymore thanks to mine." He shrugged. "I just came here to tell you that your last attempt at petty vengeance failed _utterly_. I have my powers back, stronger than ever, and by suppressing them in the first place, you made me stronger than you could ever have imagined." He smiled nastily. "So thanks for that."

Zeus strode toward him threateningly, arcs of lightning pouring from his eyes and leaping between his fingers. "Listen well, mortal—"

"No, _you_ listen," Jason snarled. "No matter how much I've learned, how much I've grown, I'm still pissed that you continue to meddle in our affairs. And I know Mom is too." His eyes narrowed. "Especially if you did it all to help that psycho in Bialya."

Zeus blinked. "Who?"

Jason arched a skeptical eyebrow. "I'm surprised you don't already know, considering how perfectly you set me up for him. Your buddy Janus took his shot while I was still powerless—and failed, obviously."

Zeus tried to hide it, but the nervous shudder that ran through his features for the briefest moment was emulated to a much greater degree in the crowd behind him.

Jason's eyes narrowed. "So you _do_ know him."

Zeus took a moment to think, pursing his lips. "We know him, yes, but his interference was unknown to us until now. Make no mistake, he is _not_ one of us."

His predatory smile returned. "That's good, because for a second there, I thought I might have to call in a favor from Dr. Fate and drop a nuke or two into this dimension." His smile turned to a scowl. "Janus is _mine_. My sole purpose in coming to this time was to hunt my parents' killer, and anyone caught helping him will share his fate."

"You _dare_ threaten us?" Zeus' lightning flared up threateningly. "Even in this weakened form, you are nothing more than an _insect_!"

Jason smiled nastily. "Well, the moment I got my powers back, I kicked the crap out of Janus for a good two minutes, so…" he shrugged, "I like my chances."

That caused an even bigger ripple in the crowd behind Zeus.

"Bottom line: the next time you even _think_ about screwing with me or my family," Jason stepped forward, snarling, "just remember the stock I come from…'cause in my time, they've _both_ killed the likes of you."

And with that spectacular mic-drop, Jason turned away and marched off toward the nexus of magic energy he'd emerged from. His vision blurred with intense light for a moment before he realized he wasn't back on Themyscira. His surroundings were…well, it was clear he was still on Olympus thanks to the architecture, but outside the well-beaten stone paths was an empty void of fog and floating pieces of the city. Jason frowned. His projection definitely stepped through a portal, but it had taken him to another section of the city, not back to Earth. It was after half a minute of trying to remember how to get back that he felt a presence behind him and turned to meet it.

The gray-eyed brunette from before was striding toward him with calm, almost gliding steps, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes though her expression was impassive at best.

Jason arched an eyebrow. "What do _you_ want? Come to threaten me like the big man?" He waved toward the shambled palace in the distance.

She cracked the tiniest of smiles and shook her head slightly. "On the contrary. Few _gods_ have the audacity to stand up to my father like that, much less threaten him. I applaud you, Jason Wayne."

His eyebrows shot up. "Father?" He blinked slowly. "You're Athena."

She bowed her head slightly, showing the olive wreath on her head a little more prominently. "At your service."

Jason frowned. "Considering you're stuck here thanks to us, I didn't think you'd be quite so…friendly to humans."

Athena smiled, a hint of sadness in her gray eyes. "On the contrary, who do you think helped your Justice League repel my family?"

His eyes widened, mouth gaped in an "O" until a grin spread over his face. "You always were more sympathetic to humanity than the rest." His head shook. "But I don't get it. If you were on our side, why are you stuck on this side of the barrier?"

Athena turned toward the empty void. "The spell used to seal us away was an incredibly complex one, requiring anchors on _both_ sides of the dimensional barrier." She smiled sadly. "And both had to be gods."

"So…you took this end."

A nod. "While Hades took the other."

"Huh. I'm surprised, given how much the war must've fed his coffers."

Athena arched an eyebrow. "Running a kingdom of dead souls is apparently a great deal more work than one might think with such a rapidly-expanding population. And he's _never_ gotten along with his brothers."

Jason snorted. "Serves them right for being assholes." They were silent a while before he frowned, crossing his arms. "No offense, but why seek me out like this? A goddess of wisdom doesn't seem like someone to waste her time and words on simple pleasantries."

A dark looked passed across her face. "You are not wrong, Jason. What you told us, about your battle with Janus…"

"Yeah, why was everyone looking so shaken? And why did Zeus disavow him, despite him _clearly_ being Olympian?"

Athena answered hesitantly. "It is…a very long story. He _is_ Olympian…but also Titan."

Jason's eyebrows shot skyward.

She frowned and stared at the ground. "And he was not always so quick to visit death on others." Athena met his eyes. "Suffice to say, you are not the first to suffer from my father's cruelty, not even within his own family."

Athena waved toward a pair of crumbling stone chairs, and they sat opposite each other, flanked on either side by the void.

"Janus was borne of the Titan Uranus and my sister Artemis. As both Titan and Olympian, he had innate power the likes of which neither had ever seen. To protect him from the increasingly hostile interest of his half-brother, Kronos, Uranus kept his birth a secret and sealed him away in a realm beyond the sight of the god of time, where only Janus' own gateways could ever reach. During the war with Kronos and his Titans, Zeus discovered his existence and power from Artemis, who revealed it all at a time of desperation. He may not have been able to reach Janus physically, but much like you, projected his presence and pleaded with him to help defeat Kronos.

"Janus, seeing the tyranny of his half-brother, agreed to fight, despite being the youngest of us all. With his ability to see even across dimensions and fine control over the fabric of space, Janus singlehandedly turned the tide and eventually _defeated_ Kronos in single combat."

Jason's eyebrows knitted. "Wait—I thought the Big Three took out daddy dearest."

Athena scowled. "A revision of history that I was _foolish_ enough to allow." Regret poured from her eyes and voice as she kept speaking. "Though not nearly as foolish as what I allowed my father to do to _him_ after the war was over. When Kronos was defeated, we discovered another ability of Janus that none, even him, had known until then. Because he shares Titan and Olympian blood, he is a polymorph, capable of absorbing the powers and domains of other deific beings he defeats." Athena gulped hard. "Zeus…already feared his power, even _before_ he learned of Janus' new dominion over time, and banished him from Olympus under the pretense of calming the other gods."

She stared at the ground, hints of grief lacing her tone. "It was supposed to be temporary, or so he said, but…in time, it became clear that my father had no intention of ever bringing him home. I know not where he has remained all this time, but now that he is on Earth, I must warn you of the immense danger he poses."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out already."

Her gray eyes darkened. "You know nothing of his true capabilities. That you are still alive can only mean one of two things: that he was holding back, or that something has happened to severely weaken him. Half of Olympus' might _combined_ would not stand a chance against his power."

Jason smirked. "Well, you could say the same about their match-up with the Justice League."

Athena looked off to the side, shrugging. "A fair point." She frowned. "Still, if you have felt even a fraction of his strength, then you know how much of a threat he is."

"I do. Which is why I'm wondering why you're telling me all this." His head tilted and arms crossed. "I get that you're generally speaking on humanity's side, but defying your father's wishes while you're stuck on his turf seems a little dumb just to blab about a former ally."

"He was—" Athena's agitated tone cut off mid-sentence as she took a breath to calm herself. "He was more than that. And it pains me to hear that his pain has embittered him so."

Jason blinked. "You heard what I told Zeus. You know what I mean to do to him."

She nodded.

"Then why does it sound like you're asking me to save him?"

Athena met his questioning gaze with a hard look, averting her eyes a moment later. "I am."

"…he murdered my parents."

"I know."

"He almost murdered my sister. Tried to murder _me_."

She sighed, eyes slipping closed. "I know."

"Yet you're still asking."

Athena looked at him. "I am." She sighed hard. "The Janus I knew would cast _himself_ into the pits of Tartarus before becoming the monster Kronos was. Part of me hopes that person is still in there somewhere…but if death is the only means of saving him from himself, so be it." She gave him a purposeful look. "To do so, you will need allies, even those _outside_ your family."

Jason leaned toward her. "So you want to help me? How?" He waved at their surroundings. "Not that I wouldn't appreciate it, but you're not exactly in a position to offer, trapped as you are."

She smiled, a hint of scheming intelligence in her eyes. "Your father and I agree that understanding your enemy is half the battle, Jason Wayne. And no one knew him better than me. I will guide you as best I can, and in turn, you must use what I teach to better yourself, to become stronger, fight smarter. That you held your own against Janus once is indication that you are already on the right track, but even so, you were fighting blind." Her smile widened. "With me, you will not be."

Jason nodded slowly, shrugging. "Fair enough." They stood up and faced each other. "I'll be back soon, then, and as often as I can." He smiled and bowed slightly. "A pleasure meeting you, Pallas Athena."

Athena smiled and bowed back. "Likewise, Jason Wayne. I sense that you have much farther yet to go."

He grinned as his vision began fading to white. "Here's hoping."

…

When his spirit returned to his body, Hippolyta was waiting for him with a concerned look.

"Well?" she asked.

Jason experimentally curled one hand into a fist and smiled. "Still stronger than ever."

She let out a sigh of relief and waved him back into the throne room, which had been restocked with the guards that he'd convinced to leave him and his grandmother for a word in private.

"I'm glad," Hippolyta said. "Last thing this family needed was a repeat incident of last time."

Jason winced.

"Have a safe trip home." She stopped short and turned to him. "Unless you'd like to stay?"

Jason smiled and shook his head. "Nah, I just came back for this." His smile faded. "And to…apologize, for how I left things last time."

Hippolyta smiled and held up a hand to stop him. "You already did."

"But you need to know I was wrong. I _do_ need you." He frowned. "In fact, I may need you now more than ever. Especially if Athena was right about Janus…"

Her eyes widened. "You spoke to Athena?"

He grinned. "Oh yes. She was _very_ helpful. I can see why your people revere her so much."

"She _is_ one of the five who gave us life." Hippolyta's eyes darkened. "Unfortunately, most of the rest have perished since."

"I think we would've gotten along." He cast a look at the waning sunrise, the full light of day making him squint. "I better get going; this isn't the only important convo I need to have today."

Hippolyta sent him a smile and nod. "You are welcome back any time, _engonós_. Your victory in the arena—no, your _existence_ has guaranteed that."

Jason smirked. "Is Philippus still salty that I won?"

She sighed. "She is rather cross to have been bested by a teenager, but you've earned her grudging respect. I daresay she's even grown to admire your restraint."

He winced. "Honestly, she should thank _Kara_ for that. If she hadn't been there, you'd probably be short one general." He stretched and marched toward a nearby balcony, Hippolyta following behind him. "Which is why I'm going to see _her_ next."

The queen smiled, a teasing lilt in her tone. "Is _that_ the only reason?"

Jason side-eyed her hard. "Okay, who blabbed?"

Her head shook. "No one had to. I'm not so old as to have forgotten the look of adoration in a man's eye." Her smile widened a touch. "Especially not when I have such a recent example as your father to refresh my memory."

"…heh." Jason grinned and gave her a parting salute. "See you soon!"

With a puff of disturbed dust and a following sonic boom, he was on his way to Metropolis.

…

Chewing on pencils had become something of a pastime during Clara's work at the Daily Planet. So much so that Clark helpfully kept an entire box's worth in a caddy on her desk at all times just in case she damaged one a little too heavily. Wrapped up in an embezzling story for a nearby borough, she and the fifty-some-odd other reporters on the floor didn't notice the faint shadow that drifted over the windows nearest her desk. Or the inaudible-to-human-ears tapping that rang from that window a moment later. Clara snapped her eyes to the wide glass pane, finding nothing but empty space outside. Frowning, she slowly turned back to her work before the tapping was back.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked through the wall next to the window to see Jason sitting there smothering giggles in the hand not currently annoying her with those taps. Rolling her eyes, she got her phone halfway out to text him to stop being a twit when she realized—

 _There's…no ledge out there._

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped as she quickly typed out a message and headed for the nearest stairwell almost at a run. That drew the attention of a few others in the office, but she didn't care. As soon as she flung open the door to the roof, Clara stopped short and stared at the figure who floated up from the edge and slowly drifted over to land a few feet in front of her.

Grinning sheepishly, Jason threw his hands into the air and said, "Surprise!"

"You—what—when? _How_?"

Jason grimaced. "It's a…long story, that's actually about a week old."

She stared at him. "A week. You've had your powers back for a week and you didn't tell me?"

He cocked his head. "Well, to be fair, most of that time was spent sitting with Cass while she recovered."

"Recovered? From what?"

Jason sighed. "Oh, that's right. I told him not to tell you."

Kara frowned. "Told who not to tell me what?"

"Your cousin," he said, waving to a nearby alcove next to the spinning globe. "I wanted to be the one to break the news, and he said you'd be busy with work for the next couple days, so it worked out."

When she came within sight of the tent-like structure he'd erected, Kara's eyebrows hiked upward. "What's all this for?"

He grinned. "Celebration, of course! Our one-month anniversary _and_ the return of my powers."

She chuckled lightly and shook her head as she followed him into the makeshift enclosure, though she obviously didn't feel the cold. When she sat, she was assaulted by a waft of steam bearing hints of roast beef and the most absurdly spicy pepper jack cheese. She snatched the first sandwich before Jason could even sit down. Laughing, he grabbed another one from the basket and munched away as the sun climbed to its apex.

"So how is it, being back to full power?"

Jason tilted his head and laughed nervously. "Gotta admit, it's going to take me a bit to get used to my own strength again. And the _flight_." His head shook slowly, grinning ear to ear. " _Man_ I forgot how much I missed that. That freedom, the wind rushing in your face…there's nothing like it."

Kara smiled a little. "No there isn't."

Jason blinked and glanced at her face, a glance that gradually became a concerned stare. "Are you okay?"

She inhaled sharply, answering just a touch too quickly. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

Jason blinked again, his stare unrelenting. "Kara, what's wrong?"

Kara's eyes widened with a sudden surge of panic, stumbling over her words for an answer. "Um…nothing, I'm fine."

Stare.

"Jason…it's really nothing."

"If it were nothing, you wouldn't have that look in your eyes."

Kara frowned crookedly. " _What_ look?"

He leaned in closer, that intense gaze pinning her in place. "Like you're expecting to fade away any second."

She stared back incredulously for a moment before a hard sigh left her lips. "Good Rao, is it that obvious?"

"Is _what_ obvious? Kara, what's going on?" He pursed his lips. "Is…this about me getting my powers back?"

"…in a way I guess?"

"I thought you'd be happier. I mean, the last time I was here in Metropolis, you said—"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I said it's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's bothering you." Jason reached out and gently took her hand. "Come on, Kay. Talk to me."

She met his earnest eyes, thinking long and hard before shaking her head. "It's stupid. And petty."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Kara couldn't hold his gaze, so she stared at the gravel of the roof below them, one hand absently picking at her skirt. "It's just…when we first met, you'd _just_ lost your powers. And…I gave you something to look forward to, which was the whole point." She hesitated, huffing hard. "Rao help me—I _know_ this isn't like you." Kara frowned. "But…a part of me was afraid that…you were dating me to be close to my power, and I'd be less interesting when you finally got yours back."

Jason blinked hard, staring at her with an expression unreadable even to her.

She huffed. " _See_? I told you it was stupid." Kara felt embarrassed, and not a small bit ashamed at even _thinking_ about him that way.

Until he said, "It's not stupid."

She hesitantly turned back to see him frowning, empathy shining in his eyes.

A teasing grin spread over his face. "Completely out of character for me, yes, and you _should_ know better by now." The smile vanished. "But it's not stupid. I understand exactly where you're coming from."

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

He nodded slowly, looking out onto the horizon. "In a way. Though not with my powers…with my name."

"Because you're a Wayne," she breathed in realization.

Another nod. "Carrying a name like that growing up brings with it a lot of perks…and just as many vultures. Even in _elementary_ school, I had one-percenters and wannabe one-percenters scrambling to get into my circle of influence. I was trusting enough back then that I didn't ask too many questions. Until I started paying for everything, and they kept dropping my name to get out of trouble." He sighed hard. "And then one of my 'friends' decided she didn't need me anymore, and bailed along with a half-dozen others." His head shook with a sardonic smile. "Say what you will about Damian, but he doesn't take kindly to anyone messing with his family, not even kids.

"So, he taught me how to spot fakes, people who are only after me for my money or status." He frowned. "Still, after that, it was always a lingering fear in the back of my head. That I wouldn't be able to tell even with practice if someone really liked me for me. And every time I saw it, that was another leg for that fear to stand on."

Kara gulped and nodded, understanding completely.

Jason's frown quickly gave way to a warm smile. "That's what made you— _makes_ you so different." He turned his gaze to her. "All that nonsense has never impressed you, and that's one of many reasons we get along so well."

She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah…I'm sorry."

"Hey." He reached out and tipped her chin up, a strength to his touch that hadn't been there at Christmas. "You don't have to apologize for your insecurities. Everyone's got 'em, and I certainly have no place to judge."

"But still…" She shook herself. "Well, no, you're here and I should be happy about that. I _am_ happy about that."

Jason still looked unsatisfied until he got a curious gleam in his eyes. "Say…can I tell you a secret?" He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "It's uh…kind of embarrassing."

Kara arched an eyebrow curiously. "Sure?"

He shrugged. "I figure turnabout's fair play."

She nodded.

And then Jason got _really_ nervous, toying with his hands while doing anything and everything to avoid looking her in the eye. "I've uh…" his cheeks went red, and not from the cold, "I've had a crush on you since I was six years old."

For the briefest of moments, Kara's mind completely blanked out.

 _Okay…_ that _was not what I expected to hear._

She blinked a few times, shaking herself off and noticing that his blush had engulfed his entire face.

Jason absently twirled a paper clip between his fingers to manage his nerves. "I uh…spent a lot of my childhood traveling with Mom and Dad on various business trips. One of the most frequent was here to Metropolis, which…is where I met you." He smiled, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "You were my one consistent babysitter, and certainly the most frequent." His smile faded a bit. "That's when I first noticed that sad look you get sometimes, when you think about _him_."

Kara froze, her tone quiet and hesitant. "Is…it really that obvious?"

He met her eyes, that same intense look shaking her a bit. "Only to someone who knows you like I do." He picked at the crust of one of the sandwiches. "You were wearing this…floral print dress one time. Staring out at the sunset." He rubbed his shoulder. "And…when I tapped your shoulder, there it was, right when you looked at me."

Kara frowned. "And that's…seven years from now?"

He shrugged. "Thereabouts. I didn't know the reason behind it until years later, when I was old enough to understand, but…I knew I didn't like it. So every time I saw that look, I did anything and everything to get your attention, to keep your mind off it. And then…when puberty started to hit…" he chuckled nervously, "that got a bit more complicated." His eyes darkened. "Especially when I found out about Five." His gaze returned to hers, flickering from one eye to the other. "Which…is why I made myself a promise, that when I was old enough…" he smiled softly and leaned right into her personal space, "I would break that pattern by kissing you."

Kara's eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

He smiled wider. "And a month ago, you made that promise happen." His smile faded a bit, a look of determination in his deep blues. "But I've decided it's not enough. I want more."

She blinked owlishly, face steadily turning red from his proximity.

Jason licked his lips, eyes searching all over her face. "I want…I want to be there when you move out to college. I want to be there when you graduate, when you have your first exhibition, your first product line." He smiled. "I want to share another milkshake with you, and then another." His smile widened wolfishly. "And yes, I want to kiss you again, and again, and again; because my promise didn't account for just how addictive it is."

She bit her lower lip, face aflame.

With an adoring look in his eyes, Jason laced his fingers with hers. "I want to share my happiness with the person who deserves it most."

Kara stared at him blankly for about two seconds. And then proceeded to absolutely _lose_ it with side-stitching laughter. The red, put-out look on his face forced her to calm quickly, waving excitedly in an attempt to keep him calm.

He grumbled, "Not how I expected that to go," amid her attempts to explain.

When she was finally coherent enough to speak, her first words were, "I'm so sorry! That was just so… _sappy_ and… _cheesy_ and…" her smile softened considerably as she rubbed a thumb over his hand, "sweet. That was really sweet."

Apparently mollified, Jason chewed his lower lip nervously. "Is it…weird? That I've had a crush on you since I was six? I mean, technically you kinda raised me."

Kara pursed her lips and looked up in thought for a second before shrugging. "Not any weirder than a cyborg who fell for me Kyle Reese style."

Jason blinked twice before he got the reference and chuckled. "Yeah, fair enough." His expression sharpened a bit. "Kara, I'm not—"

She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Look, I know you're different, okay? But…I do have some concerns about all that."

"Shoot."

Her lips pursed tightly, a question that had been nagging her for weeks rising to the fore. "How much do you really know about me?"

Jason practically _blanched_ at that. "Uh…well, I always had a bit of a crush on you, but when I found out about what happened with Brainy…I kinda went full-on stalker mode."

Her brows shot up.

"Hacked the Watchtower files, read up on your history, your preferences. Hell, even a psych eval that was conducted in 2025."

Kara stared at him. "I'm…not sure how I feel about that."

Jason grimaced. "Yeah, I'm not even gonna _try_ and argue that wasn't a _gross_ invasion of privacy, but…it helped me understand you better."

"And how much of that did you use when we first hung out?"

He winced. "Well uh…there was the milkshake thing…"

Kara smirked and crossed her arms. "That wasn't your first time in the diner, was it?"

He laughed nervously. "Nope. Of all the times you babysat me, I can't remember _one_ where we didn't stop by to grab a shake. Strawberry banana was always your favorite."

"I figured as much."

"But aside from that…" His eyes darted about almost in a panic. "I mean, yes, I knew how to get you to open up, but…it's not like I ever made you feel anything you didn't want to." He looked at her earnestly. "I would _never_ —"

A hand on his chest immediately stopped him, and a whisper followed a moment later. "I know. I just needed to hear it."

Jason's lips pursed, and he nodded slightly with a sigh.

Kara smiled wryly. "Though it does worry me a bit that you walked into this relationship already knowing so much about me and I know so little about you."

"Well, it's not like I know _everything_ about you, Kara. If I did, this wouldn't be any fun." He arched an eyebrow and gently poked her in the cheek. "Besides, like I said before, that's your own fault for not asking." He smiled gently, good humor returned. "So, ask away."

Kara thought for a while, replaying the conversation in her head and alighting on something that had stuck with her. "You said…my kisses were addictive."

By the slight widening of his eyes, she knew he could tell where she was going.

"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked coyly.

He looked up and sighed dramatically, tapping a finger on his chin. "Well…it's been so long, I can't quite remember."

"Oh?"

Jason nodded, barely restraining a shit-eating grin. "I might need a reminder. Or two." He finally let it show. "Or a dozen."

It was at _that_ point that Kara had finally had it and tackled him to the ground in a fierce lip-lock that was quickly drowning them both in affection. She'd been so careful before, when they first started dating. Like everything else on this planet, he'd been fragile but beautiful, like a glass sculpture. But now…now he was the toughest of rocks that could ever be found on Krypton or Earth, as firm and unyielding as his spirit. And sweet _Rao_ , he gave as good as he got. The way his teeth tugged on her lip, the way his fingers curled in her hair…

Kara drew back, gasping for air and looking down to see the black of Jason's pupils dominating his eyes even as he maintained that big, stupid grin.

"See? I'm _already_ learning new things about you."

"Like what?" she breathed.

Jason grinned even wider and drew closer to whisper in her ear. "I had no idea you were this _forceful_."

A rush of heat filled her face and body until she quickly recovered and whispered back, "Only when I see something I want."

And then she traced a line of kisses down his jaw to his neck, and planted a hickey that wouldn't be quite so easy to hide if it weren't the dead of winter. His answering groan inspired her to playfully flick her tongue over the red spot and kiss her way back up to his lips. Jason ran his hands up her arms, then grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and rolled them over to put him on top. He grinned down at her wolfishly as she bit her lower lip hard. That casual show of strength was an _incredible_ turn-on she had _not_ been expecting. It was as he leaned in to pin her down with his lips that she heard a faint whisper from below.

" _Whenever you're done molesting my best friend's son, there's a letter from Parsons you'll probably want to open."_

Kara's eyes snapped open in alarm, pushing Jason off even as she flushed down to her roots. Jason stared at her in confusion, realizing what was happening when she jabbed a finger downward, then motioned to her ear. His eyes turned to saucers and mouth gaped in an "O."

Kara schooled her returning whisper into something resembling politeness. _"Yes, thank you Kal."_

He apparently picked up on the hint of snark because she could hear the chuckle in his reply. _"Have fun, you two. And remember…"_

Her eyes rolled. _"Don't do anything you wouldn't, yeah, yeah."_

When she finally returned her attention to Jason, he was staring at her with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

"So, am I dead?" he asked, only half-joking by the look on his face.

Kara chuckled. "No, you're good. Frankly, Kal's more worried about _me_ corrupting _you_."

Jason laughed. "Somehow that does not surprise me."

"There is, however, something I need to check downstairs and uh…" she shifted nervously, standing up and dusting herself off, "I'd like you with me. For…moral support."

Jason blinked and joined her, taking her hand. "What's up?"

She exhaled sharply. "Letter just came in from Parsons."

His eyes widened slightly, his face quickly schooled into something painfully neutral. Kara barely restrained an eye-roll. Of course. He already knew what it said, and was still making every effort not to spoil it for her.

She smiled warmly and pecked his cheek, whispering, "Thanks, Jace."

He didn't ask what for, just nodded and followed her down the steps, their fingers interlaced. The office staff stared at the couple for a good minute when they arrived, until Clara's hand left Jason's to reach for the letter. She could've X-rayed it from the roof, but…this seemed like something to be done in person. Sick of the anticipation, she tore the envelope open, noting in her peripherals the stares and air of tension of Lois and Clark. That tension persisted and increased as she unfolded the document within, eyes scanning over the contents at normal speed before rereading it at superspeed. Then again. And again.

And _then_ Jason let out the grin he'd been hiding for the last five minutes.

"Congratulations, Clara."

Lois leapt to her feet and half-shrieked as she practically tackled the blonde in excitement. "I knew it! I knew you could do it!"

Clark got up, grinning widely, and clapped her on the shoulder. "Nicely done, cous. I give you two years before you're setting the trends on Fifth Avenue."

Clara gave him a weird look. "The program's for _four_ years, Clark."

"Your point?"

Clara giggled, pulling him into a tight hug and silently thanking him for his vote of confidence. "Thank you guys, all of you."

She looked back at Jason, reaching out to take his hand while the others continued to lump on the praise. He stayed with her amid the shouts of celebration that soon carried across the whole office. Even Perry got in on it, playfully ribbing her about bailing on them to rub elbows with the one percent. At which point Jason cheekily reminded him that she was already rubbing a bit more than that. It was the obnoxious eyebrow-waggle that finally got her to smack him upside the head.

The couple still spent the better part of the celebratory dinner back at the farm grossing out Jon.

…

By the time Jason got back to Wayne Manor, they had finished moving Cass's things into her old room. She'd just been discharged from her room on the Watchtower, and not a moment too soon. The first night she'd woken after Bialya, she couldn't sleep a wink, and despite her dyslexia, they burned through the first of the Percy Jackson series pretty quickly. To her delight, he'd actually anticipated that and brought the whole saga with him. They read all five books before she was finally tired enough to sleep. The days that followed kinda went downhill from there.

Like Jason, she was easily bored when forced to sit still, and in the efforts of speeding the healing process, had been forced to keep her hands occupied with his Nth-metal weapons as well. As a result, the few patrols he'd engaged in were without his trademark sword and steadily familiar shield. Things had been quiet since the Singapore excursion, almost a little too quiet, and Jason couldn't help feeling uneasy at what that could mean. The Decembrist cell in that bunker had been shut down, and Wayne Enterprises was doing its best to send every forced worker back home as a means of outreach in one of their regions of business.

Diana had been overseeing that particular project. However, many of those people hadn't been drafted or forced into service as much as they just hadn't had anywhere else to go. Working for the Decembrists was a better prospect than living on the streets. The situation was complicated, further so by the limits of cultural translation and the variety of the workers' origins, but the family had every confidence Diana would make the right decisions.

Since then, however, the Decembrists had all but vanished from the picture. Even Caden noted that the Dragon's operations were stalling somewhat, and he planned to take advantage of that in the near future by dethroning him for good. A part of Jason hoped that the silence meant Janus and his operatives were licking their wounds and would still be doing so for some time. A much larger part recognized it as the calm before a storm, the quiet in which an even greater scheme would be forged. Still, Jason was glad for the peace and quiet; no one wanted to usher in the new year with a crisis.

And yet he couldn't shake the memories of his confrontation with Janus, and specifically the location. What was so important about Bialya that so much of his time and resources would be spent trying to increase their political strength? The assassination attempt by Devil Dog on Christmas Eve coupled with the country-wide jammer of any and all WayneTech communicators made it pretty obvious he was allied with them. Jason could only hope they'd figure out what that meant before things got a whole lot worse. Last he checked, Qurac and Bialya were at least partial nuclear powers in this time, and even if they weren't, Bialya had enough metahuman operatives to make any armed confrontation a bloodbath.

All that was set aside as soon as Jason touched down on the roof and descended to the study to find Damian, Cass, and his parents sitting with various media. Alfred came in a moment later bearing a steaming mug of coffee, which he then laid on the table next to Jason's seat without a word.

"Thanks, Al."

He gave the boy a short nod before sidling off elsewhere. The conspicuous hum of a vacuum cleaner trailed in a while later.

It was a good two minutes before Diana spoke first. "So, what did you learn?"

Jason frowned and swirled the contents of his mug for a bit before answering. "Janus is known to Olympus, and _not_ in a good way."

Damian frowned. "Ordinarily, I'd say the enemy of my enemy is—"

"Still an enemy," Bruce interrupted firmly. "History has proven that Olympus can't be trusted."

"With one exception," Jason said into his mug.

All eyes were on him.

"Athena spoke to me after I told off her dad, said she'd tell me everything she could about Janus and how to beat him."

"And did she?" Damian asked.

His head shook. "Told me a little about his background, but I get the feeling that all the information I need can't be communicated in a single conversation." He shrugged. "I'll be back for more soon enough." Jason directed a pointed look at his mother. "And you should too."

Diana sighed hard, averting her gaze. "You don't get it; it's a _pattern_ with her, a toxic pattern of mistrust."

"And freaking out every time helps that how?"

Bruce frowned and sighed. "He does have a point. How many times did you have to forgive _me_ in the early days, for being so stubborn and closed-off?"

Diana frowned. "A great many, I know."

"How is this any different?"

Another sigh. "Because she's known me all my life and she should know better than to question my judgment."

Bruce arched an eyebrow. "You're also her kid, and no matter how old you get, a part of her will always remember you that way. She has a great many more years of experience than you, and while that does jade and embitter her to a degree, it also gives her a degree of wisdom rarely found in this world."

"And I'd be a fool to cut that off for a wound already healed." Diana groaned. "I am _not_ looking forward to that conversation."

He stroked her cheek. "Yet you're still brave enough to have it."

She smiled and pecked his lips, turning back to their children. "Hardships aside, it's been a great year."

"Yes it has," Cass said with a smile from her place by the fire.

Alfred strode into the room just then, taking a moment to tidy up the mantlepiece before turning to the others, hands tucked behind his back. "On that topic, any resolutions to declare?"

Silence hung in the air for a few moments before Damian replied first, a cocky gleam in his eye.

"I resolve to have the Titans beat the Justice League in an exhibition match."

A few eyebrows hiked upward at that.

"Tough talk," Diana teased, "care to back it up?"

Damian grinned. "Gimme six months and a pick of arena."

"You're on," Bruce replied with a confident smile.

"And you, sir?" Alfred asked him.

He blinked and thought for a second. "To be a better Batman, for my city and the people I love."

Diana smiled and spoke next. "To have all my family under one roof."

From her place at the fire, Cass said with a small grin, "To read the entirety of Tolkien's works."

Damian snorted and Diana let out a low whistle at that. It was quite a task for someone with dyslexia.

Then all eyes drifted to Jason, who had been staring into the flames with a strange, contemplative look in his eye. He didn't smile, nor did he frown. Instead, his expression was caught somewhere between contentment and tension in a façade of serenity. His gaze slowly drifted over those gathered, from Alfred to Cass to Damian, where his eyes lingered a moment, before finally settling on his side-by-side parents.

"To live up to my name," Jason said finally, eyes narrowing in determination. " _Both_ of them."

At that, everyone drifted into a contented silence, returning to their previous activities until Cass remembered someone who'd been left out.

"Alfred, what about—"

It was then that she looked around to find that the butler was nowhere to be seen. But even so, she and others knew what his answer would be.

To live another year and watch his beloved family grow ever larger and stronger.

…

As Jason tried to sleep that night, he found his eyes drawn inexorably to the obsidian tablet hanging on his wall. His gaze traced the etched name of his ancestor as he reflected on the rich family history he had inherited. A frown marred his features when he remembered that wasn't the _only_ family tree he belonged to. The other was marred with countless records of greed, intrigue, and betrayal; both of allies and each other. If living in the past—and especially without his powers—had taught him anything, it was the importance of knowing himself.

 _All_ of himself.

And even then, there were parts he still didn't understand. Jason strode over to a nearby window, pulling it open and leaning against the sill as the cold winter air blew through his room. With his powers returned, he barely felt it, but shivered all the same in reflex. He lifted his hands into his vision, curling them into fists as he tried to focus on what he'd felt in Bialya, on the power that had lit his blood aflame and lit up his body like Christmas. The runes did not answer, just as they hadn't since they receded that day.

Part of him wondered if it was a fluke, or something that could only be triggered in the heat of battle or desperation. Without more research, without more experience, it was impossible to know. Only time would tell. And therein lay the rub: time. The very force of nature he'd been battling against since his arrival the night of the rehearsal, and he had no idea he'd been doing so quite literally. Athena's words to him kept coming back again and again; he could not do this alone. But then, that had been the whole lesson of being rendered human.

Despite Janus' immense power and intelligence, when push came to shove, he acted on his own or through those he put little faith in. And that more than anything made him vulnerable. Jason's parents had protected him long enough to give them a fighting chance through his sojourn in time. Nightwing stepped in before Deathstroke could finish him off. Red had interrupted Richard Dragon's impending execution. Kara had shielded him from a grenade when he was kidnapped. Even with direct intervention, Cass stopped him from killing Jason, and in turn Jason had taught him a valuable lesson about underestimating the power of family.

Jason Wayne was not alone.

The Tomorrow Knight was not alone.

And as long as even one of his friends and family still drew breath, he never would be.

* * *

AN: Well, that brings us to the end of this origin story. I hope you all enjoyed the ride and the concept behind this character. Let it be known that I have every intention to continue writing this story moving forward, but decided to do so in a new entry titled _The Tomorrow Knight: Vagabonds_. I don't know when I'll be able to put out the first chapter of that, but with finals week coming up, I don't expect it to be for a good while. As such, if you want to stay apprised of any further developments in the TK saga, I suggest you follow me as an author so FFnet will send an email whenever I release the new story.

There are a lot of questions still to be answered, especially with regard to our main antagonist, whose identity is finally known. But like Athena said, there's going to be a lot of work in the coming days, and he's going to need allies, even those outside the "family." I won't say more for the sake of not spoiling too much, but the next story will feature three such allies within the opening arc, and a "season premier" that should knock some socks off.

With that said, I hope you enjoyed this little epilogue and are looking forward to the next installment.

Drake out.

Musical Inspirations:

God of War (2018) - Echoes of an Old Life: Olympus in ruins/threatening Zeus/meeting Athena/the myth of Janus

Daredevil (Season 3) - Still Stapled Together: "...can I tell you a secret?"/promise kept/reminder/letter


End file.
